


Winter 2015 Pinesmas Collection

by PineWreaths



Series: Pinesmas [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Pinescifica, Stancest - Freeform, pinecest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineWreaths/pseuds/PineWreaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various prompt-based stories, all of them holidays-related and in no particular chronological/relational order. The tags refer to at least one story in the collection containing that subject.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Christmas Key

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: "Dipper accidentally stumbles upon the gift Mabel got for him before Christmas."

It was under a corner of boxes in her closet. He hadn’t meant to snoop, but he knew this was Mabel’s favorite lip gloss flavor: Maple Syrup. Unfortunately, while he hadn’t gotten too large, Waddles had become a voracious destroyer of anything that smelled good. Already Mabel had to scold him after he ripped open his gift under the tree, a wrapped box of pig treats she’d found on a custom treat maker online. Dipper had realized they had probably originally been intended for dogs, and had tacitly not mentioned the slightly cannibalistic nature of the likely pork flavor included in the “Holiday Feast” flavor.

He had snuck in her room; He hadn’t meant to sneak in, but she was out for the day doing the remaining last-minute holiday shopping to mail to Candy and Grenda before the mall closed for Christmas tomorrow. Mom was downstairs making cookies and Dad was out back pulling out some firewood from the cord they had stacked by the fence for feeding to the holiday hearth fire.

Waddles was toasting his belly as close as he could scoot to the fire without Mom scolding him, and Dipper was slightly disconcerted by the distinct faint smell of roast bacon as he walked past and hoped Waddle couldn’t smell the chapstick in his hand. The pet pig grunted, rolled over, and snuffled in his sleep, but Dipper didn’t want to risk it and went to put it up in Mabel’s chapstick drawer in her closet organizer.

He had slid open the closet, deposited his cargo, and went to leave when he saw a glint of gold under the box. Curious, he then made the mistake and fished out whatever it was. He realized what it was immediately and shoved it back as if it had burned him, but the damage was done as soon as he saw it. His mind was racing as he made his way back to his room, and Dipper slumped into his office chair he had up against his computer desk. He propped his feet up on a box under the desk leaning back as he remembered what he’d seen.

It was a gold key, an ornate but clearly functional one with a golden pine tree where you would grip it to turn it. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what she might have in store for him involving the key. He was still thinking about it when she got back from her shopping, and even after dinner and when he and his sister retired to their separate rooms. She didn’t come to his room that night after their parents had gone to bed, and he began then to fret that she knew, somehow, that she’d figured out that he had seen it.

 

 

 

It was the morning after. Presents lay stacked near the tree, wrapping paper had been herded into a huge pile, and Mom and Dad were preparing the fancy dinner as Dipper sat in the hallway, holding a key. Mabel passed by him on her way to help their parents, and gave him a wink and a quick secret peck on the cheek; She must have figured it out, since all he’d gotten from her was the key in a card along with a well-drawn lump of coal. Dipper felt slightly indignant, but he also knew how seriously Mabel took gifts and surprises like this.

He went to sit in his room, leaning back and resting his feet up on the box again as he closed his eyes and thought how he could fix this mess. He still had no idea what the key was for, and suspected that he might have ticked off Mabel enough to withhold any clues she might have been willing to offer.

He was shocked out of his thoughts by a slight knock at the door.

“Dipper?”

It was his sister. Without getting up, he just mumbled “Come in.” He didn’t know if he could face her yet, but as she came in he heard a brief noise from her, what sounded like a snicker. He turned his swivel chair around, giving her an apologetic look. She was sitting, leaning against his closed door with arms crossed and a knowing look on her face that seemed to be fighting between stony disapproval and amusement. He hung his head, and mumbled a “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, but I should have known not to look at stuff in your closet.”

Mabel let out a huff of breath, and in a scolding tone said “You know, I had originally planned on not telling you, and just letting you try and figure this out on your own. No hints until next year, or at least our birthday.”

Dipper looked up, his eyes wide with shock. She  _wouldn’t_ , would she? Leave him with a mystery and literally no clues, probably no help: Nothing, whatsoever, for months?

She saw his face, and snickered again. “See, that’s exactly why I had to give you a hint or something brobro.” Her gaze shifted to behind him. “Say, that’s an awfully handy box you got there for resting your feet, huh?”

Dipper looked and followed her gaze, and shrugged. His room was messy, but the box was convenient for that at least he guessed.

“I wonder when you got that box?”

Dipper spun back to his sister, who now had an ear-to-ear grin on her face. Dipper’s room was in such a constant state of mess he hadn’t noticed, and now he virtually dove to retrieve it. It was fairly light, lighter than expected, and he almost tore it open in his excitement. Inside was a brown wood-stained chest, with a single golden lock for a key. Hand shaking, he carefully inserted his key and twisted it to  _click_ open perfectly.

Inside it was a rolled and wrinkled browned paper scroll, and a package underneath wrapped in pink tissue paper. He unscrolled the scroll first, giving Mabel another look of excitement as she nodded and grinned in approval. The scroll was tea-stained and burnt around the edges; Mabels’ craftsmanship here was excellent, as always, even if there were a few flecks of errant glitter. The sheet was the size of a piece of writing paper, and on it was a brief message:

_On this day, you got your gift,_

_But only part of it is here,_

_The rest is all where we called home,_

_In our summer of hope and fear._

_This is the first page,_

_Of a mystery for you to solve,_

_But I hope that this search is fun for you,_

_I made it to show my love.*_

_-Mabel_

_(* I know solve doesn’t rhyme with love but the whole rhyming perfect english bit is your schtick and I figured you cared more about the message than a perfect sonnet. Blargh, babbling on here, so without further ado:)_

_THE FIRST CLUE:_

_Zkdw jrhv xs, pxvw jr grzq,_

_Zkdw rqfh zdv elj wxuqv vpdoo._

_Vpdoo wxuqv elj wrr, lq wklv sodfh,_

_Klgghq lq Judylwb Idoov._

He grinned ear to ear; Dipper already recognized parts of the code, and his mind was already racing to solve the remainder, but he forced himself to focus on unwrapping the rest of the gift.

Behind him, he could hear Mabel make her high-pitched “ _eeeeeee_ ” of excited anticipation she always did, and as the paper fell away, he could hear himself gasp involuntarily.

It was beautiful; The journal was soft leather, stained a deep blue, and with the Ursa Major constellation worked into the leather itself and stained or painted a lighter silvery color. The journal was more rough, natural leather curled around the edges instead of bound and bordered like Grunkle Ford’s books had been before they’d been incinerated. In the middle where the spine would have been was instead a three-ring binder mechanism, and as he looked he could see the scroll had three corresponding holes punched into the wrinkled and weathered paper.

With an air of reverence, he snapped open the binder, a sense of excitement and astonishment at the surprise Mabel had crafted without him knowing and left right at his fingertips for weeks, battling with anticipation burning like he hadn’t felt since that summer years ago. He fitted the scroll in, snapped it shut, and closed the book. He smiled as he saw the little bronzed charms of a stylized shooting star and a stylized pine tree, attached to little leather cords that wrapped around the journal to hold it closed.

Mabel’s squeal became audible as she flew forward and embraced Dipper in a hug. He laughed, and pulled her around to plant a kiss on her lips, grinning with giddy excitement. “I take it Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are both in on this?”

She nodded, and he could tell she was had apparently been looking forward to telling him this for weeks; No wonder she had apparently been suffering from not clueing him in to the rest of the secret nearly as badly as he had been suffering with the secret itself. “Yeah, Grunkle Stan helped me hide them and Grunkle Ford helped me with the codes!”

Dipper groaned, realizing that meant they were well-hidden and encoded to the point of stumping government agency specialists too. He  _still_ hadn’t been able to crack the box code on the borders of the journals, despite having access to Stan’s photocopies and pestering Ford for hints to no avail.

Despite the challenges, his voice had a rising note of squealing joy to match his sister’s as he said “I can’t  _wait_  for summer to get here.”

Mabel waved a pair of bus tickets in front of his face. “Mom and Dad pre-approved us for a trip to the Shack for the winter, for the purpose of a family reunion with our Grunkles. Would you be interested in coming alo-”

Dipper’s squeal became audible, their Mom downstairs yelled in frustration as a wineglass she’d been cleaning shattered in her hands despite her delicacy in wiping it dry, and the twins knew without exchanging a word that this was probably shaping up to be the best winter break ever.


	2. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "For Pinesmas could you do a drabble where Mabel ties mistletoe around her waist?"
> 
> NSFW

“Dipper? Dipper, hey, Dip, take a breather for a sec.”

Dipper pulled back, immediately worried. He had gone for the kiss after seeing his sister under the mistletoe, and while they had kissed before this was in retrospect probably not the best place to do it.

But  _damn_  if she hadn’t kissed him back, her mouth melting to his and her pressing herself against him. Dipper was taken aback, as he’d been somewhat worried in the back of his head that Mabel wasn’t really interested in him, not like  _that,_  and the little sounds and movements she’d made against him had dashed those gloomy thoughts and buried them in the with gusto.

Still, their Mom and Dad were due to be back home any minute, and the mistletoe was right near the entryway where anyone coming in the front door could see. He made a disappointed noise, but nodded with a muttered yet sincere “Sorry,” as he realized how close that could have been.

Mabel just rolled her eyes and chuckled, before reaching up to grab the little plastic fake plant and pop it off of the tape holding it to the doorframe. “Well, nothing said we had to stop  _forever_. I’m just moving the party is all,” she said, before giggling and running down the hall and into her room.

Dipper was caught aback for a moment, and hesitated in surprise before grinning and following Mabel into her room, closing the door before turning to look to his sister. She was looking at him, unsure, one arm awkwardly at her side while the other grabbed it from behind, her one foot crossed slightly behind the other. He could tell she was anxious, but he couldn’t see the mistletoe for a moment before he saw it on her waist, for some reaso-

_Oh. OH._

It hit him, and suddenly her nervousness made complete sense and Dipper could hear her breathing was tense with worry. He cracked into a wide smile before trying to edit it mentally to what he think a sultry smile would look like, and was relieved to see her shoulders relax and her smile return to almost-full strength.

Taking a deep breath, Dipper approached his sister, gently kissing her on the face as he guided her to lie back on her bed, following her down with kisses on her mouth and then her jaw as she made a little happy noise. Then she let out a little chuckle.

“Uh, brobro? I, uh, I think you’re missing the mistletoe.”

He grinned, kissing on her throat before making it to smooch on her collarbone, murmuring “I’m getting there, Miss Impatient. Just taking my time is all.”

She wriggled with excitement as he kissed as far down as the low cut of her shirt would permit, and then skipped below, lifting up her shirt to kiss right above where the mistletoe had been hastily retaped onto her skirt waistband. He then pushed the satiny and shimmery material of the jinglebell-encrusted skirt upwards, both twins giggling at the sudden merry musical accompaniment to their building libidos. Dipper hooked a thumb to either side of her red-and-green striped tights, and gently pulled them downwards; Already Mabel had a slight dark damp spot on her little distinctly non-holiday yellow duck panties, and with a chuckle and a wiggle of mild embarrassment from Mabel he hooked his thumbs through those as well and pulled down both tights and panties to her knees.

Mabel carefully raised her legs upwards to drape them on her brother’s shoulders, and he knelt down to her mound to lay a single gentle kiss upon it. She let out a little hiss and moan of pleasure, the slight jerk of surprise at his action causing a corresponding jingle and making them both freeze at the sound. Then Dipper kissed downwards, following the light and trimmed hair downwards before placing a slow and teasing series of kisses around her slit. Mabel’s breathing was notably heavy now, and with an almost inaudible cry of need, she whispered  _“Please, Dip.”_

He smiled, and leaned forward, gently running his tongue up her slit. She let out a long sigh of pleasure, her hand reaching down and over the slightly-jingling skirt to run her fingers through his hair as he ran his tongue back up, making little circles around the hood of her clit. She arched back as he leaned forward, gently nudging his tongue to push aside the hood before pulling back and kissing and licking around again.

He could feel her breathing increase, the jingling now near-constant but still quiet enough that both of them seemed to unspeakingly agree it wasn’t worth worrying about right now, not while they were thus preoccupied. Dipper increased his pace as well, and suddenly had a moment of sheer internal terror; He hadn’t done this before, and while internet videos had gotten him this far, they tended to skip over this stuff in favor of other acts, and this meant Dipper had no idea what else to do. He certainly didn’t want to become boring, but then a snippet of memory from a video he’d seen filtered in.

_“Make the alphabet with your tongue; A, B, C, D, and when she grabs your hair like she’s gonna pull your damn head off, stay with that letter!”_

He grinned, and began to do exactly that. Sure enough, Mabel went from happy moans to whimpers and groans of need; Both hands were in his hair now, and he could feel her twitch under him as he started to intersperse his alphabet recital with sucking and quick teasing flicks of his tongue.

Soon, Mabel’s hips pushed upwards to him, and Dipper just did a little of everything, flicking, sucking, and running his tongue wherever he could around her clit. Mabel’s moan arched into a sudden strangled and throaty gasp, then another, then a third, each one decreasing in intensity. He sat back, grinning at Mabel, and she flopped her hand back, trying to catch her breath before she finally sat up to look at him. She grinned, and said in a weak voice “C’mere, you.”

Dipper leaned up over the jingly skirt, and kissed his sister. In an absentminded voice, she murmured “I may need to steal this from the decorations before they go back in the attic. It’d be a shame to let its potential get spoiled in a boring storage tub for the next eleven months.”

Mabel let out a happy sigh, and looked down to give the little plastic plant at her waist an approving pat.

“Good mistletoe”


	3. The 3rd AMSCCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "How about a story about a Christmas costume party where they show up as a tree and star ornament? An inside joke for them and a cute twinsy throwback for their friends and family?(aged up twins obviously, lol)"

The third Annual Mystery Shack Christmas Costume Extravaganza, or AMSCCE as Dipper tried in vain to abbreviate it to, was going swimmingly. Mabel was beside herself, as this year it seemed like everyone had really decided to get into the spirit and go all-out. Last year Mabel had to practically trap their Grunkles and force them into matching ghost-hunter costumes she’d made based off of her _Spookynatural_  TV obsession, but this year they came in their own costumes.

Well, as close to their own costumes as they could get. Grunkle Stan was wearing his lounge lizard costume, a little bough of plastic mistletoe replacing the medallion on the gold chain around his neck, and Ford was wearing what appeared to be an identical trenchcoat as he seemed to always wear come rain or snow or infernally-hot heat waves.

It was probably hand-made, judging from the festive red velvet and white fur trim around it. The red turtleneck and black trousers he always wore spoiled the effect of a stern and paranoid Santa, but Mabel had squealed with delight when she saw it.

Wendy had come in a baggy grey shirt with a pillow under it and a black question mark on the front. She’d taken a sharpie to her chin to emulate Soos’ stubble and tucked her shock of red hair under a baseball cap, Soos himself was wearing a bunch of blue and green glow-in-the-dark facepaint, and apparently going as a zombie judging from the fake blood around his arms and lips. Dipper and Mabel had a moment of grabbing-for-the-nearest-blunt-object terror at thinking he had become re-zombified, but he had laughed and at length proved with various attempts at dancing and rapping that he was the real deal.

Dipper was still relieved to see that Ford and Stan discreetly returned the brass knuckles and glowing laser pistol to their respective pockets behind Soos after hearing him. Mabel then grabbed Dipper by the arm, yanking him towards the attic so she could shove him into their costume. Wendy gave him a wink, and Dipper gave her a weak smile and thumbs-up. She had discovered their secret relationship at the last AMSCCE, but had been surprisingly supportive, saying “Hey guys, it’s weird, but not my place to out you to the Grunks or anything. Just try not to be too obvious, y’know?”

Still, Dipper knew Mabel would be focused on the costumes rather than funtimes right now. She had been working on their costumes in secret, as she always did, and was always giddy to surprise Dipper with the result. So Dipper let her drag him by the hand, slam the door, command in a no-nonsense voice for him to close his eyes, and he felt his shirt and vest being yanked off, a moment of hesitation and a contemplative “Hmmm” before the pants were yanked down as well. Dipper felt something narrow and fairly tight pulled up in its place, and a big bulky something that was scratchy with felt pulled over his own arms, with a hole in it fitted to his face for it to poke out.

Then there was another bout of movement, this time as Mabel swapped into her costume. Dipper peeked an eye open, getting a flash of little Gentlemen Kitties panties before he got his nose flicked and a brief scolding from Mabel.

“Ok, Mr. Impatient,  _now_  you can take a gander at THIS!” He opened his eyes, and in the mirror she pulled up he could see their costumes: He was in a festive christmas tree, complete with ornaments, an LED string of lights, and even a repurposed brown pencil skirt to form the trunk. He had to admit it looked good, if a bit two-dimensional. Then again, looking two-dimensional felt oddly appropriate for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, so he didn’t mind.

Mabel was dressed as a shooting star, with a similar felt star around her chest and face, and with a fluffy white tutu presumably to look like a cloud. Her tights were rainbow-striped, and she had golden ribbon streamers coming off of the ends, and even a pair of angelic angel wings around the back.

Artistic liberties aside, it looked an awful lot like the tree topper Stan had stuck on the tree in the room downstairs. Dipper chuckled, and gave Mabel a kiss on the cheek, causing her to giggle. While Dipper wouldn’t say that he loved getting dressed up like this in the most ridiculous combinations Mabel could think up, as a way to pay him back for his suffering she usually had a  _second_ set of costumes for that evening as well. These were also a surprise, and of a far less appropriate-for-public nature. Last year she’d made a great and simple pirate costume for him and a very risque mermaid costume for herself, and they’d had quite a few swashbuckling sexytimes over the next few days as he-

“Dipper? Ha, hey Dip, you, uh, your “tree branch” is kinda showing.” Dipper looked at Mabel, confused, before following her gaze down and coughing awkwardly. The happy memories had caused him to stiffen, and the flexible material of the skirt had been all to happy to accompany a new distinctly visible bulge. He coughed again, and quickly scuttled to the bathroom to wash his face a bit and try and counteract the effects of the memory.

Thirty seconds of just-off-of-a-glacier cold water and he was distinctly branch-free, and ready to accompany Mabel downstairs. Arm-in-arm, they came down to a bout of applause. Their parents were there, talking with Ford with distinctly worried looks on their faces about whatever story he was telling them, but they all three let out a simultaneous “D’awwwww” that made Dipper blush crimson to match the sewn-on ornaments on his chest.

Their Mom scurried over to take a few pictures of them, but a few minutes later Dipper was already feeling overheated and had to go visit the punch bowl. The music changed to that of a slow dance, and laughing, Mabel bounded over to grab his hand and drag him onto the floor. Their parents were there, as were a few other couples, and Dipper could feel the rest of the world melt away; His parents were smiling, as always failing to realize the closeness was anything other than purely platonic sibling affections.

Then, faintly, he heard Soos say “Hey, waaaaitaminut. Doesn’t the star normally go  _on top_  of the tree?” followed by a “Whoof!” of pain. 

Dipper glanced over to find Soos doubled up from where Wendy’s elbow had jabbed him in the stomach, and she turned to give Dipper a thumbs-up before bending over to whisper something in the handyman’s ear.

There was a brief flicker of confusion, and then the smile of an epiphanic understanding as Soos went “ _Ohhhhh_. Dood, I totally get it now.  _Wow,_  that explains, like, so much. My brain just kinda went, like, _pwooom_ ,” he said, making an exploding motion away from his head as Wendy chuckled.

Dipper turned back to his sister, hugging her close to briefly whisper “I love you” in her ear, as they continued to attempt to waltz. Outside, the snow was falling in drifts, framing the little latticed window that was glowing with warm yellow light. The trees were quiet, the snow hushing the noises of the forest to silence.

 

With one exception.

 

“Aw, c’mon Sixer? Pine Tree? Anybody? If I had balls, I’d be freezing them off right now. Seriously, isn’t there some law or something against abusing pets or something like that?”

Zooming in, we can see the noise is coming from the windowsill of the warmly-glowing latticed window. On it, engraved into the windowsill, is a ring carved into the wood and inlaid with shimmering rainbow strands of mystical hair, and covered with a sufficient caulk to ensure the rest of the window and most of the wall will be broken before the ring will be.

Inside the ring is a nail, and from that nail is a tiny brass chain that leads to a little set of exquisite shackles. They had been crafted with great care and pride by Soos, as he had proudly explained at the time “All that modelling and kit-building was just preparation for this, my greatest achievement!” Discretely, Ford had helped as well with more than a little enthusiasm and cathartic revenge at the end goal of the tiny shackles.

And shackled to the chain is a tiny yellow triangle, no bigger than an ordinary corn chip, carrying a dinged-up black wood cane swirled with snow he occasionally shakes off, and with a black tophat crossmarked with squirrel toothmarks and general disorder and tattiness. The tiny isocolean shape huddles as close to the window as it can, peering inside as we pull back to the cold and comfortable silence of the woods.

_“Wait, what’s with those kid’s costumes? Doesn’t the star go on top of the tree these humans are always putting-”_

_“Oh.”  
_

 

A bird flies away, the movement disturbing a small plummet of snow.

_“Oooooh. Oh wow, that is some downright interesting family dynamics right there.”_

A shuffling gnome pops out of a tree trunk, screeches at an offending squirrel as it gets too close to the gnome’s stash of a single half-frozen huckleberry pie.

_“Well heck, no wonder the bubble didn’t work.”_

 

And once again, the forest is silent save for the falling snow. 


	4. Generational Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "The grunks and/or soos and wendy try to set up a romantic date for the twins."

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Stan?” Ford rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back to shoot a glance into the living room. Dipper was slouched in the chair, eyes hooded and expression sour and sullen. He and his sister both had been like that since they’d arrived, and Ford could remember enough secondhand beratements from Filbrick to know who had laid their spirits so low.

It had taken some gentle questions and more than a little intuition from Stan before they’d been able to suss out what had happened, or at least the approximate shape of it. That had been yesterday night, when the Grunkles had seen a glimpse of their former happy and bubbly selves restored when they’d held hands and watched reruns of  _The Duchess Approves._  Neither twin appeared to think the Grunkles had found out enough to know, but there were certain glances they gave each other that the older Pines twins knew all too well.

“Stan, I’ve been gone for a while, but the laws are still the laws…right?” He was honestly unsure; So much had changed since he had been trapped in the portal, and he now had a phone in his pocket without any wires and with a computing power that would have made a mockery of the government mainframe in 1982. More and more people were being accepted and getting married, and it sometimes felt like Ford had been trapped there a few centuries instead of a few decades.

Stan gave him a rueful smile, and said “Well, the law didn’t stop  _us_  before, did it Sixer?”

Ford coughed, polydactyl hands shoved into pockets as his face burned crimson. Stan chuckled, and gave him a good-natured pat on the shoulder, and Ford relaxed somewhat.

The decades had been sorely missed, but in the interim they had changed, both of them. Ford had been trapped, paranoid and fighting for his life for almost every waking moment, and Stan had become a businessman and professional swindler. Their lives had diverged, and while Ford could tell Stan had missed him dearly, it didn’t  _feel_  right to pick back up where they had left off, as if nothing had happened. Even now, three years later, it still felt like Ford was rediscovering who his brother had become from the man he’d known.

Stan cleared his throat quietly, glancing towards the dejected and oblivious Dipper, before murmuring “Stanford, do you remember  _our_  Grunkle? Grunkle Austone?”

Ford looked up, nonplussed at the change in topic, but then he chuckled. “‘Old Stony’; How could I forget? What was that he was always drinking from that little flask of his?”

Stan grinned, and shrugged. “I think he called it ‘scumble.’ Damn powerful stuff; I caught him polishing a set of steel golf clubs with it once.”

“Didn’t he make it from apples, though? How on earth do you do that with  _apples?”_

“Well, I think it was  _mostly_ apples,” Stan said with a knowing sly grin. His face became serious once again. “Stanford, what do you think Stony would have done if he’d found out about…well, about  _us_ back in the day?”

Ford said nothing, glancing towards his feet and studying the details on his worn hiking boot as he thought. Truth was, their Grunkle Austone would have done worse than nothing; He probably would have called up Filbrick and they’d have received a chewing-out from their parents the likes of which they’d never had until Stanley and the fallout from the infamous science project.

He felt Stanley’s hand on his shoulder, and looked up to meet his brothers warm smile and caring eyes again. “Sixer, what do you think life would have been like, how we’d have felt, if Stony had done something like this for us? Shown not only that he knew, but that he loved us regardless?”

“I don’t think Old Stony loved anything as much as he loved those golf clubs,” Ford said, but it was with an almost foreign tightness to the edge of his voice and a distinct blurrines around the edge of his vision. “Still, I…I see your point, Stanley.”

He straightened his back, quickly wiping the sleeve of his coat across his face and clearing his throat. Stan watched, but said nothing apart from the slight smile on his face. Ford looked back one last time towards Dipper, emphasizing with the dejected young man far more than he suspected Dipper realized, and called out “Mabel! Dipper! Come here, we’ve got a, uh, an early Christmas gift for you two!”

There was the squeak of springs from the chair as Dipper slumped off of it, and from upstairs they could hear the bedroom door creak open. As Mabel’s footsteps could be heard from the head of the stairs, Dipper gave his grunkles a weak but sincere smile, which was strengthened as he sniffed the air and hummed appreciatively. “Wow, Grunkle Stan, what’s cooking? Dinner smells delicious.”

Mabel reached the bottom of the stairs. She had her braceless smile reassembled, but it was hollow, forced. Ford could see as it became more genuine as she met Dipper’s gaze and he gave her a small smile and thumbs-up from one hand, but her eyes were red-rimmed, and the grunkles had heard the occasional escaped sob her pillows hadn’t managed to smother off and on since she’d retreated up there after lunch.

She sniffed the air, but her expression was confused. “Is that… _rosemary?”_ she said with astonishment. “Grunkle Stan, I didn’t know you knew about any condiments and seasonings other than salt, ketchup, and pepper! Heck, you call the last one “The Devil’s Flakes” when I asked about it in the scrambled eggs last summer!” She glanced behind him, where one of the window drapes had been hastily nailed up to conceal the kitchen interior.

Beside him, Stan shifted with a bit of embarrassment, muttering “I, uh, I didn’t think I called it  _that,_ specifically,” he said, before coughing and looking significantly at Ford.

Ford forcibly stopped himself from continuing to rub at his neck, and looked at the expectant and hesitant twins. “Kids, we…we know life can be tough sometimes, and that…well, and that sometimes people can be the toughest part of it.” Already he could feel that tightness return to his voice, but he did his best to tamp it down and continue.

“But, well…we wanted to give you, as a gift of sorts, we wanted to let you know that-” An abrupt knot in his throat caused him to stop and clear his throat, and chuckling, Stan stepped forward, saying “You kids are always welcome here.  _Always_ , you understand me?”

There was a long moment of confusion from the younger Pines twins, then looks between Dipper and Mabel of hesitant and uncertain optimism. When they saw their Grunkles grinning and Ford giving them a nod of his head, they both dashed over and grabbed them in a big cluster-hug. Dipper was just stuttering, shock keeping him from saying what he was trying to say, and Mabel was just crying and squealing “ _BEST. GRUNKLES. EVER!”_ with her head buried in Ford’s coat.

After a long moment they all broke apart, stepping back as more than two sets of eyes were dried. Then with a formal and posh harrumph, Stan swept back the window drape, revealing a set of candles in the center of a small array of winter holly Ford had found on that morning’s exploratory trek. There was a set of the “fine china,” as Stan called it: Some slightly-chipped but otherwise good condition white porcelain, and there was a small roaster chicken in a dish, along with a bowl of mashed potatoes, some steamed vegetables, and a tureen of gravy. The table was set for two, and Stan couldn’t resist adding a little bouquet of mistletoe hanging from a red ribbon over the middle of the table.

Mabel’s squeal of delight threatened to shatter the china, and she squeezed both Grunkles in another round of hugs. Dipper had stopped trying to form words, and just sat there, slack-jawed as he stared from the romantic table setting for him and his soulmate and to his Grunkles, before looking back again. Chuckling, Ford patted him on the shoulder, saying “It’s real, son. No bubble shenanigans from Bill or anyone else tonight.”

Mabel immediately began tugging on both arms of the Grunkles, saying in between puffs of exertion “You. Will. Be. Joining. Us. Too. Because. You. Are.  _Family-”_ before Ford and Stan tugged their arms back, giving her smiles and with ford Shaking his head. “Mabel, this is a special gift for your two. We ate earlier, and that bowl of potatoes was a lot more full when I had mashed them,” he said, eyeing Stan who looked towards the ceiling and began whistling nonchalantly. Ford looked back to Mabel, and gave her a gentle push on the shoulder, towards her brother who was standing near the table, waiting for her.

She smiled, eyes glistening, and gave Ford one last hug before sprinting over to join Dipper. As the twins dug in, they would occasionally look up at each-other, laughing in excited disbelief and happiness that they didn’t have to hide and could be themselves for the first time in what must have been a long time.

As Ford watched, he saw Dipper’s hand snake halfway across the table, and saw Mabel dart her hand out to grab his, fingers interlaced. Then he felt a calloused hand gently slide into his own, and looked up at Stan in surprise. His brother gave him a smile, squeezing the hand as he said “Nothing beats a family who loves you, eh Stanford?”

Smiling, Ford squeezed the hand back, pulling it slightly so Stan was shoulder to shoulder with him, as they watched the ecstatic twins before turning to walk towards the door to the Shack. “Nothing indeed, Stanley.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, he spoke again, this time with a slight crack in his voice. “I missed you too.”


	5. Acme Kevlar-Weave Holiday Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt: "Obvious prompt: Dipper wakes up and Mabel is his present. nsfw or sfw."

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not creature was stirring, with the notable exception of Dipper’s sister. “Uh, Dipper?” she called, and he rolled over in bed, groaning. The bleary light of the clock showed  _12:08 AM_ , so rather twas Christmas anyways. This a new record for Mabel; Last year she had only lasted six minutes past the stroke of midnight before barging in and giving Dipper his secret gift; It had been a blank artbook, something he had appreciated since he knew their Dad got annoyed with him when he spent too much time putting off homework to sketch in his journals and in the margins of his assignments.

He sat up, slowly and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, when Mabel spoke again. “Dipper, I, uh, I could use a  _little_ help over here.” The note of slight concern had him alert in a heartbeat, and looking around he finally found her, lying sideways on the floor. She grinned sheepishly at him, and Dipper’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that she was nude, or close to it, and was covered by wide ribbons wrapped around her torso, arms, and legs. Mabel had recently started to try and introduce a bit of “spice,” as she called it, to their romantic tryst, and evidently that now extended to learning how to tie herself up.

Apparently, though, she hadn’t learned how to  _untie_ herself yet, and Dipper mused to himself wondering how long she must have been there on the floor before she decided to give up and ask for help. He knelt down and helped free her arms; She rubbed them, letting out an appreciative hiss as she massaged feeling back into them, before sitting back and grinning at him again in a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. He could see now she had a huge pink bow on the red ribbon, right across the center of her bust and with an oversized tag dangling off it that read “TO: BIG AND LITTLE DIPPER. FROM: A NAUGHTY GIRL.”

Dipper groaned, chuckling, and leaned over to give Mabel a kiss. She grinned, smooched him back, and shortly he was on the floor over her.

_12:41 AM_

There is the sound of giggling, and the sound of naked skin moving against equally-exposed skin. Two sets of heavy breathing can be heard, interspersed with the occasional “Whooo, wow” and “MmmmmHMMmm” murmured between one body and the other.

Then there is a distinct rustling, the sound of exertion, and a brief curse.

“What’s wrong Dipdot?

“Uhh, Mabel? Um, how good are you with knots?”

“Pretty decent brobro. Let me just get my hand free and-ergh, um, just go and…ohboy.”

“Yup.”

“Well huh. Y’know, as fun as this is, this wasn’t my plan originally.” Mabel’s voice was introspective and philosophical, even as more struggling could be heard.

“Really? I’d never have guessed,” came Dipper’s sarcastic reply, cut with puffs of breath.

“In fairness, you were the one who missed the perfectly-usable opportunity to save a literal damsel in distress.”

You could almost hear Dipper’s eye roll, but instead of speaking, he leaned forward, and kissed Mabel, earning a hum of appreciation from her. The noise of exertion can be heard again, but no longer accompanied by the sound of ribbons under excessive strain.

_6:57 AM_

There is a yawn followed shortly by another one nearby, the sound of lips smacking as sleep is cleared again out of tired eyes and aimed towards a clock, followed by a bout of swearing, a squeak of fear, and the sound of inconveniently-durable ribbons under sudden and frantic stress can be heard again.

“Uh oh.”


	6. Staying Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Mabel’s always ordering indie makeup-sparkly, duochrome, (way too bright) eyeshadows and perfumes that smell like cake or candy, and always makes Dipper test it out. Her Christmas haul is piles and piles of boxes. “Uh oh.”"

With each box and squeal of glee, Dipper could feel his heart sink. Looking over at the stack of lipsticks, mascara, eye shadows, rouges, and enough lip gloss to last far too many lifetimes, and he already felt itchy.

Mabel on the other hand, was beside herself. Normally she got a half-dozen, or maybe a dozen different options in a given haul, but apparently this year the unspoken agreement between their parents and the relatives had been a small mountain of various. There were colors here she didn’t even know they were still legally allowed to make; Radium Green, a violently fluorescent lip gloss she’d been dying to get smuggled into the country for her for months, was rumored to cause lesions on your back and ankles if you were exposed to it, undiluted, for more than 45 consecutive minutes.

Of course, rumor didn’t need to tell Mabel how amazing it would look with her other Late-80s-Skateboard-Commercial ensemble; Truth be told, she never brought out her favorite combination all at once, and instead swapped in second-favorite shoes or hats or windbreakers. This was because she had inadvertently based the infamous Dippy Fresh off of her imagining Dipper in that outfit, and while the nightmare of the bubble was long over, Mabel still remembered how quickly Dipper had broken the nose of the would-be bully who’d tried to call him ‘Dippy’ that fall afterwards. Rather than risk it, she just made sure Dipper was never exposed to the whole shebang all at once, and either he didn’t notice or didn’t mind enough to mention it.

She cracked open the start of the last small heap of unopened gifts as their parents laughed with genial amusement at her state of near-vibration. With a whoop, she shook Dipper by the shoulder for fortieth time that morning as he let out an almost inaudible groan.

“Oh man, look Dip! Plasma Bolt Blue! For mascara! Have you ever seen anything so amazing?”

Dipper let out a whimper, and she lightly elbowed him, saying “Aw, shucks Dipper, you’ll look stunning in that! Really! Plus, I’ve heard that neon shades are really great for bringing out rosy complexions like yours.”

She couldn’t resist the not-entirely-innocent innocent grin she gave him as he glowered at her. He unwrapped his last gift, a pile of Mystery Boy trade paperbacks from the short-lived and ultimately financially foolish comic adaptation from the 70s, paperbacks Dipper had been begging for since fall began.

He sighed, giving his parents a sincere but muted “Thanks,” before sticking it with his other gifts. His eyes swung back to the stack of doom, where Mabel was sorting her makeup on one axis by color, another by hue, and the third axis by percent of glitter or sequins in the makeup mixture. It was disconcerting, to say the least, that her growing cube of makeup was at least a foot long on any measured axis, and she still wasn’t done unwrapping her last few packages.

Thirty minutes later, and Dipper felt like he was looking down the barrels of a firing squad. It was just the array of opened bottles, carefully laid out like the ranks of a miniature army with their caps all loosely on them to enable ease of use. Last time, Mabel had taken through dinner and nearly to midnight to try out all the arrangements she wanted to give a go, nearly six hours of application, removal, and application again until she was satisfied.

Dipper sometimes regretted the promise he’d made to his sister all those years ago, when she’d come back from elementary with her smudged makeup further streaked by tears from ridicule and heartless taunting. He’d never take back that promise; Dipper knew that would break Mabel’s heart, and he’d rather face a real firing squad than do that to her.

Still, as Mabel cracked her knuckles and muttered “TIme to give that internet tutorial a shot,” Dipper felt a surge of regret as he closed his eyes, and prepared himself to be taken into a world that smelled strongly of acetone and looked like the inside of a tween magazine had vomited on his head, repeatedly.

Instead, he was treated to little feather-flicks, touches and pokes but no smearing, no scrubbing removal. It was fast; He could hear, eyes scrunched shut, while Mabel capped and uncapped bottles, just dabbing the various makeup all over his face and along his hand and nails. In what was probably less than fifteen minutes, he heard a finger snap and Mabel say “Alrighty Dip, you’re done! Now just hold still…”

There was a flash of light as he opened his eyes, temporarily blinding him and causing him to flinch. Mabel had taken a picture for posterity and future reference; It was nothing new, but the technique most certainly was. She explained it to him while his vision slowly faded back in from the white of the cellphone flash.

“So this technique lets me just stipple the makeup, and the app analyzes the picture and displays the color combinations I want without having to put you through all of the test designs I wanted to try out.” Her voice sounded slightly pouty, but Dipper chuckled, grinning in relief before he caught sight of himself in the mirror and let out a startled scream.

“Mabel, my face looks like a Jackson Pollack canvas! What the hell? Why didn’t you take it off yet?”

He didn’t like the way she abruptly looked down, her face the face he remembered so many times before from getting caught with her hand in the sugar jar.

“Mabel, what did you do?…” he said slowly and with rapidly-ramping worry in his voice.

“Well, some of the effects may be a teensy bit more permanent than others,” she said in a quiet voice. “But they should wear off in a day or two, and we’re supposed to have a snow day tomorrow, so everything should be great!”

“Diiipper, come ooouuut!” called Mabel through the door.

Dipper had retreated to the bathroom, and she had heard nothing but the sound of running water and of frantic scrubbing for the past twenty minutes.

“Dipper, I’m sorry,” she said, as she nudged a large sheet of paper with “I’m Sorry I was a Tyrannical Makeup Fiend.” in rainbow gel glitter ink under the door as far as she could. It didn’t budge, and so with a bit of apprehension, she poked a pink heart made out of construction paper and sequins under the door as well, a cursive “I love you and I’m sorry I was a poopbutt!” on it in more black glitter gel ink.

She could have sworn the heart twitched for a moment, but it too remained just wedged under the door. Sighing, Mabel cautiously nudged a packet of industrial-strength cleaning wipes under the edge of the door. “I think these will do the trick, Dip. I’m sorry.” she said through the door.

In quick succession, the apology, the heart, and the packet of industrial wipes were yanked under the door. There was the sound of frantic scrubbing, a hiss of pain, more scrubbing, and then at long last the door clicked open. Dipper, red-faced and panting, gave her a smile after a long moment.Mabel smiled back, giving him an apologetic shrug, and skipping forward gleefully to accept when he held his arms out for a hug.

She murmured into his shoulder “I’m sorry” again, only to hear him murmur back “It’s all right.”

He leaned back, his hands on her shoulders as he gave her that little smile she loved. “I promised, and I’m going to keep the promise. Besides, “ he said, poking a finger in his ear and removing a fleck of mascara glitter on the end of a fingernail, “All things considered, that was way less painful and arduous of a thing than last year.”

Mabel’s face lit up. “Awesome! Then you can help me out next week, when Grunkle Stan’s box of old secondhand Nicaraguan greasepaint finally shows up!”

It was worth it to see Dipper’s expression and the noise he made, like a cat when the vacuum cleaner they were sitting on abruptly started. She could only maintain the charade for a moment before giggling “Kidding!”

A few moments later, Mabel was running down the stairs, still giggling as Dipper attempted to whack her on the forehead with the towel he had grabbed, scolding “Bad Mabel, bad!” as he whacked her, trying not to laugh himself as they raced into the kitchen, before breaking down into giggles.

Catching her breath, Mabel gave Dipper a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Silly, I’d never do something like that.” Her tone became thoughtful.

“Although Grunkle Ford told me he had been developing a new type of near-permanent dermal pigment in a shoulder-mounted cannon-”

There was the sound of more towels bopping heads, and the laughter of the twins filled the house on the snowy December morning.


	7. Midnight Crumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Prompt: Dipper and Mabel are young and wait up all night for Santa.”

Dipper voice squeaked across the living room from his hiding place behind the couch. Mabel had left her sneaky position in the cabinet and was standing there, face a guilty cromb-covered smile as she gave Dipper a gap-toothed grin. Dipper waved her over to him, and he bounded over, Dipper shushing her for the stomping she was making.

“Sorry! They were saying in their little cookie voices “ _Mabel, we’re delicious, and our lives are without meaning if we’re not in your belly!””_

Dipper sighed. “If you eat all the cookies, Santa will get suspicious, and if Santa gets suspicious, he might start looking over our behavior for the year again.” He sat back, dejected. “I think the spaghetti incident in March would be ok if he just looks it over once, but _twice?_ Twice and I’ll be in deep trouble for sure.”

Mabel giggled, grabbing Dipper and pulling him up. Poking her face in his, she said in a scolding tone “Now Dips, we’ve talked about this. You’re a good kid,” and at this she had to break eye contact and admit “most of the time,” before looking back at him. “We’re both good kids; Heck, we’re gosh-darn _adorable._ And something adorable can’t be naughty, can it?”

Dipper thought that didn’t sound right, but he also could tell Mabel was on a roll and wanted to hear what she was going to say. “I guess not,” he muttered, but giving her a smile she returned with her becrumbed face.

“Exactly. Now, tonight, we shall see the Jolly Fat Man! We will witness him, in his glory, and learn the true Secrets of Christmas. Right?”

 _“Yeah!”_ Dipper said quietly, getting excited despite himself.

“What was that? I can’t hear you!” Mabel said with a grin, the fervor of motivational speechifying racing to her head

“Yeah!”

“LOUDER!”

“ _Mabel, shhhhhh!”_  Dipper whispered, ducking his head as his sister’s shout echoed in the living room. Both twins froze for a few long moments, but no angry shouts came from their parent’s room and no stomping upset feet came down the stairs. As one, they both released a held breath before meeting each-other’s gaze and breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Seriously, Dip, are you ready to see Santa?” she said as she straightened up and caught her breath as the laughter faded.

Still chuckling, Dipper grinned and nodded with a face full of Determination. “You bet I am. Let’s go see Santa!”

 

 

 

Derek looked over the sleeping twins, chuckling as he leaned their boneless forms up off of each other and the couch they had slumped against. Margaret gave him a smile, kissing his cheek as he passed by her with the twins cradled in his arms, taking them back up to their rooms.

“I think they lasted longer this year,” she said with a hint of a laugh at the end. “Last year they were out by ten-thirty, and now look at them; It’s almost midnight.”

He chuckled, nodding and trying to ignore the old itchy scar on his forehead. “I’ll bring down the big stuff and the bikes after I drop them off.” He turned, catching his wife with a kiss on the cheek before smiling and taking the unconscious children up to their room.

While he did so, Margaret stuck the presents under the tree, before turning her attention to the plate of cookies. Shooting a brief glance at the empty stairway, she reached for the cookie, muttering a little under her breath.

_“We’re delicious; Yum yum yum! Eat us before we get too cold from the milk you’re dunking us in; Hurry!”_

She nodded solemnly, before diving into the cookies, stopping and looking back with a guilty smile as Derek sat, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. guiltily, Margaret looked back at the remaining quarter of a cookie, before giving Derek a crumb-covered smile framed by her golden curls. He chuckled, walking over to give her a kiss on her crumby lips before saying with a laugh. “Go ahead; I’m not h-”

The cookie was already in her mouth, and she made a happy noise before snuggling close to him. Hands around each-other, they looked at the ornament-encrusted tree.

“Merry Christmas, Der.”

“Merry Christmas, Marge.”

There was a quiet moment or two. Then, without bothering to turn around, as one they said “Go back to bed.”

Behind them, Mabel let out an audible “Awwww…” as she slumped back up the stairs and towards her room, Dipper following her and both of them trying to rub the sleep out of their eyes.

Then all was still.


	8. Threadbare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: "“Dipper gets Mabel a new sweater for Christmas and he’s so happy that she likes it that he kisses her and they admit their feelings to each other and super fluffy cuteness please <3″

The tears had Dipper’s heart plummeting.

Mabel had torn open this box as soon as she could reach it, and he suspected she’d been eyeing it for several days before Christmas morning. He’d spent weeks, two months in all, just making the gift, and despite all his effort Dipper could tell it was objectively a terrible sweater. One arm was barely hanging on from where he tried sewing the sleeve on and all his knots decided they were the opposite orientation he thought they were, resulting in half of them yanking themselves free and forcing him to try and hastily correct it with more looped yarn. The other was there, but several times he’d been distracted and lost count of the purls and loops and cross-stitches, and as a result it had a frankensteinian quilt-like pattern to it.

The chest he’d saved for last, both so he could apply as much practical experience as possible to it as well as so he could salvage the sleeves as a scarf if he ran short on time. He’d finished it, and even made a halfway-decent shooting star in gold and rainbow thread across the front and under her name, but it paled in comparison to what Mabel could seemingly churn out in a single devoted weekend.

She was looking at it, mouth agape, and Dipper felt his stomach dropping. Their parents had left to go visit their aunt and uncle on the other side of the city; They’d been going through some hard times and had called suddenly that morning, and their parents had told the twins to go ahead with the presents from each-other and from their friends while they went and spoke with the relatives. As a result, the twins were alone, and Dipper had hoped to soften any disappointment by letting her open their gifts before his.

Now, it was just the two of them, and Mabel clenched the sweater in her hands, her head ducked as her shoulders jerked with a silent sob. Dipper could feel his vision starting to darken around the edges; He had never told her how much it meant to him when she had made those sweaters for him, when she would spend all her time with him, that she was his best and nearly only friend.

Being around his sister made Dipper want to be a better person, and was just one of the reasons he l…he lo…

_You can do it, Dip. C’mon, we’ve been through this already and lost enough sleep as it is._

It was just one of the reasons he  _loved_  her. 

It was a recent realization, and one that had brought a thousand other myriad feelings and worries and such into sharp focus, and for nearly the last half-year he’d been coming to terms with it. He loved her, and not in the apparently normal platonic you’re-my-sibling-and-best-friend sort of way, but in more of a you’re-my-soulmate-I-would-die-for-you way.

He hadn’t said anything, of course. Dipper had read enough to know that this sort of thing was taboo to even suggest, and consummation of such a love and life together was out of the question completely. He’d have to sit back and just watch her find someone, get married, have kids, and grow old from afar.

Shit, now  _his_  eyes were starting to tear up. He controlled his breathing, and focused on her, on Mabel. His sister was the most important person, her happiness and smiles outweighing any amount of desire he’d had to hold her, kiss her, whisper her name in her ear as he held her close, marry her in a little country church like she’d always talked about doing, watch as she smiled at him with sparkling eyes nestled between crows feet and under boughs of grey curly hair as their kids and grandkids ran and laughed all around them.

Sometimes, Dipper wished there’d just be a single bullet of troubles he could take for her, to save her life and ensure her wellbeing in a single swoop for the rest of her life and meanwhile ensure he didn’t have to suffer and watch her ecstasy through his pain.

So seeing her crying, head bent as her tears fell onto the terrible sweater made his heart ache, and he was about to reach over to attempt to offer his apologies when she looked at him.

With a thin smile and a tiny tight voice on the edge of tears, she whispered “Dip, it’s…it’s _beautiful._ Thank you.”

He felt like his plummeting roller coaster his heart rested on had at once been shot into the stratosphere while also put in a wild teacup ride of confusion. He remembered that she had seemed distant, sad at times when she thought no-one was watching, and he’d heard snippets of conversation in the halls of school. Dipper had figured it was her getting over her latest crush or short-lived halfwit boyfriend, but she’d ignored him or turned him away every time he’d tried to help, giving him little sad smiles and reassurances that everything was fine.

The upwelling of hope, seeing her look at him, smiling even as she shook with more happy sobs, spurred something in his hindbrain, something that at any other time he would have quelled as a terrible idea that would ruin everything. Logic and reason temporarily shoved aside, he half-whispered, half-said “IloveyouMabel” frantically as he leaned over and kissed her, for the first time since they were toddlers, directly on the lips.

He sat back, heart pounding, his breathing abruptly labored and he could feel his own throat tightening as he felt her go still next to him.  _Oh shit oh shit I ruined everything, fuck fucking she thinks I’m fucking disgusting, and let’s face it: Having a crush on your sister is like the worst possible thing I could do to-_

He froze as he felt Mabel shift to face towards him. Head hanging, he avoided what was doubtlessly a stern or shocked look at his outburst. He flinched as Mabel leaned towards him, sure he was about to have her scream in his ear as-

“I…I love you too, Dip,” she said, her breath hot on his ear and causing a shiver of warmth to race through him.

He spun, looking at her, trying to figure out if she was joking or something, but her smile through her tear-redenned face was genuine, the smile there containing a little something beyond what she normally looked like when giving her platonic brother a smile. This was like what she looked like when she’d talk about her boyfriends, but with that bit of realness that she had when she smiled after seeing a puppy or an awesome glitter sticker.

The rainbow array of wristbands shifted, and her hand came up to cup the side of his face. She said nothing, and instead ran her thumb at the dimple on the side of his smile, causing him to chuckle as he went to mirror the movement with her; She smelled like vanilla and peaches, in stark contrast to the weird musky smell he seemed to exude and could never scrub out of his clothes.

With unspoken agreement, they leaned toward each other, and their lips met, then parted slightly. Mabel’s lip gloss of peppermint candy cane was most prominent, but there was a sweetness in the heat of her mouth that dipper noticed and loved immediately as well. She hummed, a sound of relief and bliss, and Dipper echoed it in kind, causing her to giggle which in turn set him giggling too. They broke away, giggles fading but with Dipper’s hand still on her cheek.

They both looked up, startled, at the sound of gravel crunching in the driveway. Mabel jerked back to look at the last unopened box in his hands, before saying “Quick! Open it!”

Dipper nodded, tearing off the paper and yanking out of the box within…

A sweater.

He let out a laugh of disbelief; This one was a Mabel Brand Special Order, a deep blue that was midway between navy and robin egg, and with exquisite stitching to hold it all together. On the chest she had a raised differing stitch design in the shape of a pine tree, flanked by snowflakes and candy canes; It was all the same color of yarn, so the detail was entirely from how she had managed the raised design and how the flat blue color caught the light. Grinning, he quickly slipped it over his head, giving her a wink and leaning over to smooch her on the cheek.

She tried and missed catching the kiss on her lips, and instead settled on nuzzling briefly at his collarbone, instead sniffing at his shoulder and muttering “Mmm, smells like Dipper already.” After she pulled back and saw his look of shock and outrage, she giggled and shrugged. “What? I  _like_ the Dipper-stink!”

He laughed as their mother reached the top of the stairs, their dad a second behind her. “Goodness, whatever happened to you two?”

Dipper felt himself blanch, his face doubtlessly still red and splotchy from tears and Mabel’s very visibly the same way. As he opened his mouth to reply, Mabel interjected.

“Allergies,” she said, giving Dipper a little smile, and reaching her hand slowly under the cover of the discarded wrapping paper to give his hand a squeeze. He nodded at their mom, who just nodded sympathetically before going to help their dad with something at the car.

The moment she left, Dipper leaned over, meeting his sister’s lips for one last brief kiss. She hummed and giggled as they pulled apart, and she wandered off towards the stairs to go help their mom. Dipper just leaned back and smiled.

 _I think the new year will be off to an excellent start,_  he thought with a grin.


	9. Holiday Shiner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt: “The year that Mabel got so into a snowball fight with Dipper she accidentally pelted him with a snowball and he had a black eye just in time for Christmas.”

“I said I was sorry, Dipper, but you’ve got to know by now: The Mabester plays to win.”

He turned his head to glare at her, before looking back ahead sullenly. Shrugging, Mabel still let out a guilty “Sorry” and averted her eyes as she went to dab more of the skin-tone concealer over the vivid red-and-purple bruise. He flinched in pain, her hand darting back as she waited with bated breath before he gave her a little nod to keep going.

After a little while, Dipper caught sight of himself in the mirror; Mabel had covered most of the bruise, but she had hesitated as she got closer to his eye itself; The ball of compacted snow had socked him well and truly hard, and the bruise covered most of the eyelids on the left sides.

After a moment of biting her lip, Mabel put away the case of concealer. She began rummaging around in her fishing tacklebox filled with bottles and tubes, before letting out a little “ah- _ha!”_  of triumph as she managed to find what she was looking for.

“Eye shadow, seriously? Mabel, aren’t you done yet?” Dipper’s voice was both annoyed and pleading, but she just firmly shook her head.

“Dipper, right now it looks like one eye has bags under it and the other doesn’t, and while I’m good, I’m not good enough to hide a very-close-up scrutiny. This will help balance it out; You’ll look like you haven’t slept for weeks, but at least it won’t look like you got mugged by a snowman.”

Dipper glared at her again, but grumpily stayed quiet and still for her to apply the shadow, trying to resist the urge to blink furiously at the makeup being applied on his uninjured eye, Finally, mabel sat back, nodding with a self-satisfied expression as she said “That’ll do, pig, that’ll do.”

Behind her, Waddles rolled over in his little repurposed doggie bed, and grunted a confused squeal.

 

 

 

Dipper was sweating bullets, both literally and figuratively, but the literal sweat was causing even _more_  figurative sweat from the resulting sheer unadulterated fear.

Their mother had called him in to help her shift the holiday turkey out of the oven, and the abrupt blast of dry heat had already beaded a few droplets at his forehead. He was holding the turkey as their mom expertly basted it, and the rising heat was causing him to tilt his head to try and redirect the plummeting doom.

That was when he felt it; There was a drop that felt like it must have been the size of a manhole cover, when in reality it was probably no bigger than a pea, a droplet of sweat that gathered ominously right at his eyebrow above the bruise.

He tried wiggling his eyebrow while Mom looked the other way, and to his sudden horror that had instead caused the offending moisture to gleefully race down around his eye and to the edge of his chin in the space of a few seconds.

Basting finished, Dipper put the turkey on the range, and was about to leave the kitchen when his mother said “Dipper? Honey, are you ok?”

He froze, face still angled away from her. “Uh, s’nothing, Mom, don’t worry about it,” he said, and he could feel her glare on his back despite holding a sizable turkey.

There was a clatter as she dropped the turkey on the range and waved an angry finger at him.

 _CLATTER! “-_ n Alstar Pines, you get over here  _this instant.”_

The full name. Hoo boy, he was screwed. Taking in a deep breath, Dipper turned and walked to her, presenting the injured side of his face. to her, and her hands were immediately wiping a wet paper towel at it, gasping as the concealer was removed to reveal the doubtlessly-vivid bruise underneath.

“Dipper, who  _did_  this to you?”

“Uh…” was all he could say, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and her tone took on an ominous low note.

“Dipper, who applied the  _makeup_ to you?”

Wretchedly, Dipper could say nothing but let out another “Uh…,” one that to his horror was identical in tone to the first.

Their Mom’s voice rattled the windows and fine china, and Dipper could have sworn he saw a few birds take off in fright from the bird feeder on the deck.

“ _Mabel Nerida Pines! Get your butt down here NOW!”_


	10. That's a Wrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt: “maybe a smutty sequel to the Present Paz drabble. Like the twins wrap each other and paz gets to unwrap them.”

Pacifica really hated having sticky fingers, but “That is the cost of art” was what Mabel had reassured her with. They had made some exquisite sugar cookies, frosted and sprinkled with edible glitter and sequins in such nice patterns that Stan had to remind them “Uh, hey, guys? They’re paying more than they should for the cookies; That’s the idea, so maybe tone back the painting from “Renaissance Masters” to “Cheap Knockoff Clipart” instead?”

Pacifica and Dipper had simplified theirs as requested, but Mabel had done nothing of the sort; If anything, Pacifica could have sworn she was blending colors of edible glitter to form gradients and adding even more detail in now. Stan had just sighed, and started setting Mabel’s aside under a little sign reading “ _DELUXE Sugar Cookies!”_  and a price tag that had what was probably an entirely unnecessary ‘0’ tagged onto the end of the sticker’s value.

However, the fine culinary arts had taken their toll, and Pacifica had sticky fingers all over. Mabel washed up in the upstairs Shack bathroom first, but with a giggle Mabel had suggested that she should maybe take a shower instead, pointing out the multiple streaks of unwanted and sticky color where stray bloops of frosting on fingers had run through her ridiculously overpriced hairstyle.

Pacifica had grinned weakly, and been so focused on not screeching in terror that she missed the brief moment when Mabel’s smile turned mischievously sultry before quickly reverting back to normal.

Pacifica ducked in and took a quick, hot shower, luxuriating in the cleansing steam and briefly appreciative of Mabel’s taste in pungently floral and fruity yet high-quality shampoos and conditioners. There was a click of the door opening, the soft “ _whumpf_ ” of fabric, and the door clicking closed again, and a curious peek out revealed Mabel had left her a change of clothes of some kind on the fuzzy toilet seat cover.

She finished up, drying off as best she could with the towel there before going to check on what Mabel had grabbed for her to change into.

She stopped, rifled through the clothes again, before rolling her eyes with a snicker. All she’d been given was a santa dress, form-fitting and a reflective shimmery red ruffed with a thin band of fuzzy white. It was short, although luckily it looked stretchy enough that the difference between her size and Mabel’s would be absorbed through the dress’ clinging.

The only other articles of clothing was a santa hat with pom-pom, and a pair of black wide-strap heels that wrapped a few inches up her shins. With a bit of bemusement and a spark of arousal, she couldn’t help but notice that there was no underwear included; Her own would work, but on a whim Pacifica decided to go without, instead folding her own pair into the dirty and frosting-stained clothes she’d arrived at the shack in.

She cracked the door open, and sure enough there was a slit of light under the crack of the twins’ attic bedroom door. Looking both ways to make sure she wasn’t about to be discovered, Pacifica snuck across the distance, quickly cracking open the door and slipping inside before looking around the room with a grin.

“Hiya Paxy,” the twins said together, quietly enough that they didn’t attract the attention of a Grunkle downstairs.

The twins were sitting, cross-legged on the floor and wrapped with a thick velvety ribbon of a luscious dark cherry color. For each of them it was wrapped in such a way as to make sure they weren’t nude and were lightly bound at their wrists and ankles, but the gaps in the wrapping were many and sufficient to see that neither twin was wearing anything but said ribbon. Dipper in particular had a ribbon wrapped around his ‘Little Dipper,’ and it was evidently enjoying her outfit from how it was twitching and threatening to push through a gap in the ribbon-wrap.

Giggling, Pacifica could feel her face flush, but she did her best to remain calm and coldly composed, just giving them a smile as she said in the most seductive voice she could manage “I see you two decided to play copycat for your gifts?” She strode around behind them, and they turned as best as they could to follow, the ribbon rustling in accompaniment. Pacifca trailed her finger up and along Dipper’s arm, enjoying the feel of his warmth and just-right amount of hair that she envied Mabel for getting to enjoy so regularly, and ran the finger down Mabel’s arm as she came around. Mabel shivered and hummed appreciatively, and Pacifica could see her wiggle against her voluntary bonds as well.

She leaned forward, and gently began teasingly tugging at the overlarge bow made of ribbon at Mabe;’s back. Tugging once, twice, she abruptly then stopped, ignoring the pleading whimper of protest from Mabel as she tugged at Dipper’s bonds, again not enough to free him.

However, this time she bent over, then knelt on one knee as she deftly eased the ribbons aside from ‘Little Dipper.” From Mabel’s appreciative hum, she was enjoying the view of either Dipper or Pacifica; The process of bending over like that was doubtlessly flashing Mabel, and she could feel that she was wet enough down there that Mabel might be able to see. Focusing on the task at hand, he unsheathed dipper’s cock, pushing the ribbons as far aside as she could, and giving Dipper a brief kiss on the lips, she broke the kiss and took him into her mouth.

Dipper groaned, leaning back as his legs spread to enable her access. Unfortunately, this took him off-balance, and with a slight  _pop!_ he slipped out of Pacifica’s mouth to land flat with his back against the floor, giggling. The girls joined in, snickering at the predicament as soon as it was obvious Dipper wasn’t injured. He was still pinned under the ensnaring ribbons, however, and Pacifica took him back into her mouth with a satisfied hum. Dipper immediately stopped trying to sit back up, and instead knelt backwards and closed his eyes in bliss.

She was so focused on sucking and running her tongue all over Dipper’s rock-hard member that she had missed the sound of ribbons being scooted behind her. Suddenly she felt a warm breath, followed almost immediately by a tongue teasingly make a small semicircle around her clit and up her damp slit, flicking away as Mabel giggled and leaned forward to plant a smooch directly on Pacifica’s slit.

She really, really wanted to let this continue, but was aware that Mabel would probably appreciate some attention too. So Pacifica sat up, letting Dipper loose as he made a little mumbling wordless sound, and pushing against the center of Mabel’s chest firmly, causing her to topple backwards onto the floor mostly-helplessly. Mabel giggled, but her giggling slowed and cut to a gasping moan as Pacifica ran her fingers along the ribbon directly over her mound, pressing hard into the velvet before gently tucking them aside to reveal Mabel’s lips. She ran a finger along them and dipped briefly inside, feeling them soaked immediately. Pacifica transferred her fingers for a second to her mouth, enjoying Mabel’s taste before returning her fingers to work their magic as Mabel whimpered and pushed herself closer to Pacifica’s hand.

Meanwhile, Dipper had started to sit up, part of the ribbon binding on his arms falling away as the loose knots started to come undone and he was able to sit up on his elbows. Pacifica ran her hand down his chest, luxuriating in the feel of his downy and curly hair before reaching his shaft. Gently, she rubbed it along her clit, gently pressing there for a moment before slipping past to rub along her lips. Dipper’s eyes closed again, and Pacifica shimmied her legs into position for her to sit back, taking his length inside her as he murmured “Oh god Paxy, that feels amazing.”

Mabel shuddered, clenching her legs around Pacifica’s hand as she let out a strangled hiss of breath, before relaxing and catching her breath. Pacifica, for her part, could feel her own orgasm building, a white buzz that was still a little ways off, and brought closer with every thrust of Dipper’s hips. Dipper was still going at it like a stallion, with no sign of ending the party anytime soon either.

Still, as Mabel started to get steady, if heavy, breathing, Pacifica could see her envious gaze towards Dipper as he thrust into her. Suddenly looking up and snapping her fingers, she said mostly to herself “Oh,  _right!”_  She shucked off the ribbons in a few seconds, further confirming to Pacifica that they were for show. However, as she stood, Pacifica could see there was actually two sets of ribbons on her. One had been the bindings, but the other was a decorative wrap, circling around her arms and legs while still keeping her nude enough for sexytimes with her best friend and brother.

She got to the twins’ luggage, pulling out a little black cardboard box and slipping a purple, roughly ‘L’-shaped sex toy out of it. She flipped a small switch, and Pacifica could hear the faint buzz of a vibrator, before Mabel inserted the short end of the toy into herself.

Abruptly, Pacifica could see the appeal of  _this_  toy, as the vibrating end of Mabel’s new temporary appendage was approximately the same size and shape as a Penis, if a bit smaller and definitely more vibrantly colored than Dippers. Mabel strode over to Pacifica, her legs shaking a bit as certain points in her stride caused the vibrating part to hit something more sensitive than she’d expected, and she gently put a hand on Pacifica’s back, pushing her forward to rest her chest against dippers, her nicely-accented cleavage still contained within the little red santa dress despite the lower half of it being hiked up around her stomach.

Mabel pulled a bottle of lube out of somewhere, applying it to the end of her dildo before putting a little dollop on Pacifica’s asshole. It was slightly cold, but warmed quickly, and did it’s job well as she felt Mabel slip a test finger in before withdrawing.

Then she could feel her pressing the head of the modest dildo against her, and her eyes rolled back into her head. Dipper was still buried inside of her, sliding in and out and his grunts tinged with exertion and the faintest edges of raggedness that usually indicated he was going to cum. The vibrating dildo slid inside, partway and then fully, and she shuddered and bucked as she felt the head of the dildo buzzing against Dipper’s cock through the sensitive flesh in-between.

Dipper apparently noticed it too, and a few seconds after Pacifica could feel the flashes of white euphoria from her own orgasm exploding in her vision, Dipper grunted and strained, an unnecessary apology of “ _Shit, I’m sorry_ ” whispered as he came. Pacifica felt her world go white when Dipper’s hot warmth filled her, her legs going from bucking to just nerveless wiggling as she could hear Mabel squeak and shudder behind her, her arms reaching around and bracing against her hips, on top of where Dipper’s hands were. She let out a wordless wide-mouthed gasp, pushing backwards against the real and fake cocks that were plunging in and out of her, squeaking and hissing through her teeth as the peak of the initial orgasm faded and the presence of the still-hard ‘Little Dipper’ and the vibrating dildo remained within her and caused little aftershocks of lip-biting pleasure.

Finally, after a few long minutes, Dipper had gone nearly soft inside of her, and the amazing buzz of the dildo had become almost too much, causing her to wave Mabel away to withdraw it so Pacifica could catch her breath. Mabel instead shut it off, her breathing almost as intense, as the three of them sat back, gasping for air as they held hands.

With a squeeze, Pacifica whispered “Best present I’ve gotten all year guys.” She sat her head back as she said introspectively “Might be the best present I’ve  _ever_  gotten, come to think of it.”

Mabel chuckled, sitting up slightly as she shot a glance at her brother. “Hey Paxy, you got us envtied to that New Years party your dad is throwing, right?”

Pacifica nodded, slightly confused at the non-sequitur. Mabel just grinned, and leaned over to whisper in Pacifica’s ear “Do you guys still have no security cameras in that old storeroom?” as she ran a hand down Pacifica’s rumpled minidress and plunged a finger briefly into her sticky slit. Pacifica let out a shuddering breath, sudden understanding coloring her cheeks again as Mabel gave her neck a little nibbling bite.

“That’s what I thought.”

Dipper had leaned up to kiss on her neck as well, his hand sliding into her dress to caress her breast and run a finger over the excited nipple. “You know Paxy, if you were a naughty girl this year, you’ll need to be punished, but I’m not sure if just being forced to look but not touch would be punishment enough.”

Pacifica let out a distressed moan, but Dipper giggled, kissing her neck again before drawing back. He gave her a single kiss on the lips before going to help her stand up with Mabel.

“But for tonight at least, I think that’s a wrap.”


	11. A Very Northwest Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: “Pinescifica first Christmas. Mabel is making everyone incredibly garish holiday sweaters and her (in)famous Mabel Nog. Dipper is planning the tree decorating as if it were a military campaign and making lists for everything. pacifica enjoying her first ever Christmas surrounded by people who love and care about her for herself. Possibly they’re hosting Christmas so the Fords, Soos, and maybe Wendy show up.”

Last year’s Christmas was cold, like it always was.

Christmas at Northwest Manor was a highly regulated and formalized affair; Dinner parties were had, white elephant gifts worth hundreds were exchanged with dismissive and empty laughs, and the cold electric light of white bulbs on silver artificial trees and framed by chromed silver uniform globes seemed to crop up in every hallway of the house.

Mabel had described it once as looking like the stuff you’d see in a department store, and she was right. Even the one time Preston had gotten a large, central tree instead of the dozen or so smaller ones, it had been decorated like a robot had discovered a leftover box of boring ornaments rather than something that evoked emotions.

At least in a department store, there were people around you, ones who had lives, laughter and liveliness that lent life to the displays around them regardless of the display’s sterility. In the manor? There was nothing but the occasional fleeting glimpse of a servant or butler, or if she was unlucky, a parent with eyes full of scorn and disapproval.

She had hated it for as long as she could remember, never understanding, truly, what people saw in the holiday. For her, it had always been something her parents used to show off and slightly change the decor, and little more.

But not this year.

This year, Pacifica saw herself sitting cross-legged with Mabel, attempting to purl a thread of yarn while not binding her fingers to the knitting needles (again), Mabel showing her how to attach a sleeve with a stitch that looks invisible when you turn the article of clothing right-side out. Later, she even helped hold the pool filter that ten layers of coffee filters had been wedged into to form a crude funnel, as Mabel strained the crunchy bits out of her “traditional” Mabel Nog.

This year, Pacifica helps Dipper decorate the tree, as he refers to the diagram and tiny array of ornaments he has hung on a scaled-down miniature tree, scrutinizing it before ticking off each one individually off of the multiple-feet-long scroll of butcher paper (An early gift from his sister). She even helps him with some of his other planning and oversized-list-consulting as he directs the remaining decorations within the house interior and exterior. While he’s preoccupied with the inflatable Santa, Mabel easily convinces her to help hide the roll of butcher paper after realizing what a terrible force of neatly-organized-and-bullet-pointed evil she has wrought.

This year Pacifica’s opening gift after gift that she loves to the point of tears, even the little things: A DVD of a cheesy C-list horror movie that she and the twins loved to eat popcorn and mock on rainy days; The cute little charm necklace she’d mentioned to Mabel when she’d dragged her out of the pompous jewelry store she’d always been forced to go to and instead took her into a world of gel bracelets, glitter hairbands, and pewter jewelry for the best of friends; A business card from Stan and a burner cellphone, with the instructions of a list of names she could call for help or to “distract” her parents so she could come visit the Shack and her friends if she needed a break. Even Soos had baked cookies, an entire platter wrapped badly and with most of the contents shuffled to one size, but the striped candy-cane mint thumbprints still tasting as amazing as when she’d been trying to (apparently unsuccessfully) sneak them from when he’d cooked the first batch.

This year Pacifica was surrounded by gifts that were bought because of her friends love and care for her, instead of because of how many zeroes followed the dollar sign in the price tag. She was surrounded by people who thought the world of her and engaged with her, laughing at her jokes and stories and telling her their own in excitement, rather than parents who wheeled her out as little more than a breathing china doll they could dress up and impress visitors with. She was surrounded by a Shack, smaller than a single wing of her parent’s Manor and yet feeling as big as the world, cozy from the fire-lit hearth, and holding a single tree that had a rainbow of lights and ornaments, each one with a story to them, hanging from the boughs instead of sterile soap bubbles of glass and silver.

This year, for the first time, Pacifica  _celebrated_  Christmas.


	12. Naughty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: "Sexy roleplay where Dipper dressed as Santa bringing a gift for the (very) good girl Mabel, so Mabel decides to return the favor and surprise Dipper by dressing up as sexy Krampus who's come to "punish" Dipper for being a very "naughty" boy."

Mabel couldn’t stop laughing, and Dipper was more than a bit embarrassed. He had planned out the costume (he thought) perfectly, but had expected more sexy cooing and less guffaws.

“S-Sorry, Dip, but…Really? Really, I get _that_ as a gift?”

He blushed, and she snickered before giving him a gentle punch in his arm. He was wearing a fairly form-fitting santa costume, one he’d managed to snag from a post-Halloween sale that fit fairly well, and was honestly more flattering than he’d first expected. Knowing Mabel’s love for injecting silliness into their sexy funtimes, he’d then decided to take the idea, run with it, and do…this.

He looked at the gift-wrapped box covering the unzipped zipper of his trousers and glittery snowflake boxers beneath, and wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake.

Then Mabel’s voice shifted, as her giggles shifted from simple amusement at her brother’s idea and predicament, and instead became more sensuous, a sultry edge to the giggle as she caressed a hand up his velvet-clad thigh to briefly cup him under the box before running his hands over it. “Ooh, well, I definitely can’t say I don’t _like_ this gift, although it is a bit unorthodox.”

Dipper cleared his throat awkwardly as she reached up and ran a hand along his cheek, kissing him briefly on the lips before drawing back and waiting for him to say something. Cursing his mind for running to where it did, he said weakly “It’s, uh, it’s all homemade. Genuine 100% Dipper, guaranteed!”

He made eye contact with Mabel, before she broke down into more giggles. Dipper grinned ruefully, but then he leaned back, letting out a heavy breath as Mabel popped the lid off of the gift box, exposing his quickly-rehardening “Little Dipper” within. She hummed in appreciation, running her hand along it with a grin before gently yanking the box out of the way. Dipper tensed, expecting a jerk of pain if the box caught on somewhere tender, but it slid right off. Mabel wet her lips with her tongue, before taking his cock in her hand and leaning down to gently blow on it.

He groaned, leaning backwards further as Mabel dipped her head down and began to suck him, first running her tongue. Dipper just sat back, sighing and enjoying the view. Mabel was wearing her christmas lingerie, a bright-red matching bra and panty set, with lacy glittery snowflakes on both cups of the bra, and a little glittery snowdrift of sheer fabric over the edges of the panties. He ran a finger over there, and received an appreciative hum on his cock that caused him to twitch in her mouth when he met the damp spot on her panties.

Tucking a finger to one side to pull the fabric aside, he ran a single finger over her wet slit. She sat backwards onto his hand, and wiggled her hips as he ran his finger in little circles. Her sucking intensified, and Dipper could feel the surge beginning to build deep at the base of his spine, a warm tingling that cause him to shift uncomfortably as he tried to delay the tingling. Mabel must have sensed it as well, as she let him go with her mouth coming off in a damp kiss, before grabbing him as she scooted forward on the bed.

Dipper sat all the way back onto the fuzzy pink kitten quilt, a bit miffed internally that she couldn’t have sprung for a more festive plaid or winter pattern of some kind. She had at least safety-pinned a santa hat on top and tried to defend it as being appropriate for the holidays; Dipper hadn’t bothered to press the point, since he knew it was her favorite blanket and in any case it wasn’t as important for the mood as his costume likely was.

Still, all his complaints melted away when she guided him to her slit, rubbing the head of his cock a bit against her before teasingly pushing it just inside her with a little gasp. She began slightly wiggle again on him, giving him a grin at his obvious distress as he let out a little whimper. In a murmur, she whispered “Well, Santa, are you going to give me my present?”

He let out a snort, before grabbing both hands on her hips, pulling her fully onto his shaft as she let out a squeak of surprise, before he began to thrust into her. She groaned, as Dipper said with determination “Ho. Ho. Ho,” as he pulled her on to his cock, punctuating it with an upward thrust each time.

Mabel glared at him, but her annoyance was tempered with him hitting her in just the right spot to turn her insides to, as she once colorfully told him, “orgasmic tingly sex jello made of stars and joy.” While the description had been slightly nauseating to Dipper at the time, Mabel was certainly making the same happy noises this time around as well, so he kept going despite her glare and slight huff at the santa joking at a time like this.

Soon, he could feel himself start to tense, the tinglin building up as he leaned up to bite on her neck, whispering “I’m-Mabel, I’m can tell I’m going to-”

She cut him off by turning to match him in a kiss, and he could feel her reach under to his hips, pulling him deep into her and staying there as he came. She gave a little wiggle, before her legs spasmed and he felt her tighten around his shaft, moaning into his mouth as her shoulders shivered. She broke the kiss to lean back, her legs shaking a bit as he finished his last few spurts of cum and filled her. Still, she stayed wrapped around him, sitting there with a happy smile on her face as he softened within her, and she leaned forward to give him a little kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for the present, Dipdot. I’ll give you yours in return tomorrow night, you naughty little Santa you.” Her smile had a hint of mischievousness, but Dipper wasn’t too worried.

He should have been.

 

 

 

The remains of Christmas morning were strewn across the living room. Their mom and dad had left the twins to their apartment hours ago after the main celebrations, and Dipper was absolutely buzzing with excitement for what Mabel had planned. She was giggling and shooting him looks all afternoon, and shortly after lunch had retreated to her craft room, locked the door, and been busy with something for almost four hours. It wasn’t like Mabel to spend more than an hour or two tops on a creation, so Dipper was starting to have visions of torture racks and iron maidens before she came out, breathless, her shirt stained with glue, and grinning with a mischievous glittery smile from ear to ear.

Dipper swallowed, smiled, and then sat back on the bed, obeying when she told him to “Close your eyes!” He say there in the black silky snowflake boxers he’d received yesterday as an early gift, curious and excited as Mabel’s voice giggled and retreated into the craftroom. Slight sounds of exertion sounded, before the door creaked open. Padded footsteps came over to Dipper, and he could hear the sound of Mabel’s breathing, oddly echoed.

“Okay, open them!” Her voice was echoed as well, and Dipper opened his eyes to a nightmare. There was a horrible, hairy bestial shape; Mabel had evidently cannibalized an old furry costume she had from among her array of stand-by costumes, added some hideous eyes and ears and a fur-less monstrous humanoid face, and added clawed hands. With vague detachment, he saw one hand held a bundle of whippy sticks and another had a bag with chunks of black-painted styrofoam.

“It’s me, Krampus, here to punish a naughty boy named Dipper this Christmas!”

Dipper’s mind just swiveled to remember the nightmare made physical known as Bear-O, and he just whimpered wordlessly. The monster’s head tilted, and then Mabel let out a slightly nervous giggle.

“No worries, Dipdop! In fact, here for you this evening is…drumroll please.. _.sexy Krampus!”_

With that, she pulled a trio of tiny tabs on the furry costume, and patches fell off, revealing windows cut into the costume for a lacy snowflake bra, this one blue instead of last night’s red, and a matching set of panties. The effect was quite ruined by the persisting presence of the furry arms all the way to her shoulder, the furry thigh-high cloven hooved feet, and the bestial head that still leered at him. His libido surged, confused, and began to intermingle with the flashes of post-traumatic remembrance of Bear-O, and he just let out a babbling whimper.

In a flash, the head was removed, and Mabel’s concerned face greeted him. In a jumble almost too fast for him to hear, she said in a voice filled with worry “Oh Dip I’m so sorry I forgot about the whole thing with you and Bear-O I should have remembered oh man well have no fear I have a backup plan well most of a backup plan and I’ll be right back!”

With that, she grabbed the fallen bits of the costume and nearly sprinted towards the craft room door as Dipper took some stabilizing breaths. She ducked inside, and he heard muttering and the sounds of clothes hangers shifting on their racks, the sound of fabric being pushed aside, and briefly the noise of a sewing machine before a triumphant “A-ha!” sounded out.

He leaned forward, closing his eyes again pre-emptively even before he heard the door open. Mabels aid “All right, close your-Oh, perfect!” before she came in. Dipper could hear her footsteps clacked with the sounds of heels, and after a moment he heard her stop before him. In a nervous voice, she said “Ok, now how’s this for a sexy sorta-Krampus-but-more-like-anti-Santa?”

He opened, and his jaw dropped, appreciatively this time rather than in fear. Mabel was wearing a little shiny PVC miniskirt, a black corset with a paisley design in ice blue that he recognized from her Darth Elsa cosplay a few months back. Under the minsikirt must have been a garter belt, as the straps held up a pair of fine rose-lace stockings that led into her favorite pair of sexytime knee-high boots.

She was biting her lip, but when she saw Dipper’s look of appreciation and rapidly-tenting Little Dipper, she grinned.

Then he saw the whippy switch.

“Uh, Mabes, what’s that for?”

She chuckled, a noise that made Dipper shift in nervousness despite technically containing all the normal parts of a Mabel-brand laugh. “Oh, _Dipper,_ you’re still a _very naughty_ boy, and need to be punished, remember?”

He swallowed, and with a rueful sigh, nodded before giving her a grin. She returned it, but went over to sit on the armless office chair pertly, giving Dipper an excellent view of her bare mound and lack of panties. With a come-hither motion, she indicated for him to lie down on her lap, and slowly DIpper did so. She had to hold a hand to his chest tos top him, at which point he noticed she’d recycled a pair of victorian-lady lacy gloves for this outfit as well, one which was rapidly becoming one of the more memorable he could recall seeing her in.

“Oh, no, Dipper, you have to be face-down for this.”

He swallowed again, genuine worry on his face, as he did as instructed. Briefly, Mabel leaned down and whispered “Safeword is still “I love doritos,” ok?”

He nodded, and then almost immediately heard her call out firmly “Naughty.” as the hiss of the switch whistled through the air. It smacked right below his butt, causing his eyes to water as he bit his lip. With a slightly more patronizing tone, Mabel repeated the call of “Naughty.” and let the switch whistle down to snap smartly against his butt. This time the pain caused his head to jerk up, but he said nothing, eyes now squinted from concentration and he carefully let his head slowly down with a sighed-out breath through clenched teeth.

 _“Naughty!”_ This last scolding was sensual, hot and soft in his ear as she leaned down, the fabric of her corset pressing against his nude back as she murmured it to him. He felt his cock harden, the tip poking out from between the silky boxers and touching her thighs even as the switch smacked below his butt, landing on the existing mark and causing him to finally yelp out loud.

She stopped, and he could hear her whisper gently into his ear “Oho, well, it seems we have a naughty little gift from the naughty little boy. Perhaps this naughty boy needs a bit more punishment for being so rude with his naughty, dirty little cock?”

Dipper let out a groan as his eyes rolled back in his head at the thought, both excitement and fear in equal measure, and the smarting of his but edging the fear into his reply. “No, please, Miss…Miss Krampus,” he said, successfully keeping the amusement out of his voice. Mabel stifled a grin equally-quickly, before giving him a sultry smile. “Very good, then, the naughty boy has apparently learned his _lesson.”_ She punctuated the final word with a smart smack of her hand across his butt, earning another yelp before he leaned back to look at Mabel.

She looked him over, her face stern but with eyes twinkling, before she gently pushed him back with the tip of the branch. He leaned back, and Mabel reached over to rummage through the nightstand drawer before pulling out a bottle of basic lube. Giving him a few brief strokes, in the same instructive and commanding tone she said flatly “You _have_ been a good enough boy to pleasure me, but not good enough to deserve _this,”_ she said, running a finger along her slit to dip into it, and leave the fingertip on his lips to obediently lick off.

She squeezed a dollop of the lube onto his shaft, causing him to shiver at the cold, before she worked it onto him with her hand. Then a second dab went onto a pair of fingers, and she reached up under herself to prepare there as well, and carefully, she scooted forward and positioned his cock before her tight little asshole, slowly easing onto it as they both gasped. Her hands were on his chest, gently scratching and grasping as she felt him push past the ring of muscles and into her, sliding the remaining length fairly quickly as he let out an appreciative groan.

She began to rock back and forth, trying to avoid coming fully off of him but also attempting to maximize how much movement and sensation she was getting from his member inside of her. One finger ducked down and began rubbing her slit, dipping a finger in and around to tease and pinch her clit as her other continued to brace against his chest. She groaned, and Dipper’s hand joined hers, as she guided his fingers and he took over, stimulating as she began to whimper and gasp, her hand flying up from his chest to pull her breast out of her corset, teasing the nipple and murmuring as she massaged it, feeling him thrusting inside of her and surging his hips upwards.

He gently grasped behind her, his hands sliding on the embroidered fabric to ease her towards him, swiveling her hips to accompany the movement as he took her nipple into his mouth and began gently sucking and nibbling. Mabel began to make little whimpers, her hand in his hair as she shuddered and pushed back against him, but DIpper groaned, and could already feel his release building. Mabel let out a disappointed noise as he came, but he had barely finished pulsing into her before he had his arms wrapped under her legs, lifting her off of him and towards his face.

Mabel opened her mouth to give him a reprimand, but it melted into little cooing noises as his tongue met her slit, flicking against her clit as she shuddered against him. It was barely a minute of him sucking and rolling his tongue in circles, thrusting into her before pulling out to suck on her mound and run his tongue back downwards. Finally, as she began to tense, he suckled her clit, running his tongue in little gentle flicks across the tip of the bud as she squealed, gasping in deep breaths as she clamped her legs on either side of his head. He could feel a slight dribble of cum leaking from her and onto his chest, but he just grinned and gave her another light kiss as she shuddered one last time, before she slid back to rest on his deflated cock.

Licking his lips and loving the flavor of his sister there, Dipper leaned forward to give Mabel a kiss. She shuddered in afterglow as she met it, and hummed happily as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

“Merry Christmas, my good little sis.”

“Merry Christmas, my naughty little brobro.”

They met for another kiss, hugging each other close as they sighed in happiness and the mutual afterglow of their orgasms.

There was a long silence before Mabel spoke.

“So, next year; Sexy Krampus monster costume is a go?”

She was met with a neon puppy pillow to the face, causing her to squeal and roll over as Dipper bopped her, shouting “No, bad Mabel, _bad!_ No scary-sexy monster costumes!”


	13. Paxy's Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt: "Are you still acepting prompts for pinesmas 2015? If so, this: Pacifica is staying at the shack for a crismas party. She and dipper kiss under the mistletoe, Mabel sees this and gets Jealous. Pacifica notices and after a while gets Mabel and Dipper to kiss under the mistletoe too.”

All night, Pacifica had been acting weird. It might have been her, but to Mabel it seemed like she was sneaking around, whispering to some folks and even slipping a $20 to Soos at one point. She didn’t know what to make of it, but her night had been so jumbled after what she had seen that, hey, maybe this was normal Pacifica interactions with other humans and Mabel was the one being weird?

Because she was being weird; She knew that, despite how many warm feelings from areas of her heart were trying to convince her otherwise, she had no reason to act like she was after seeing what she had seen.

Dipper had kissed Pacifica, or she had kissed him. So _what?_

Well, “what” in this case seemed to be that her cheeks flushed, and Mabel felt more like she wanted to punch someone, preferably Pacifica, than she had in years, since Little Gideon had been such a creepy scuzzball to her way back on her first visit here to the Mystery Shack. She hadn’t felt like this since she’d seen Susie Dornmeiler kissing Dipper back in seventh grade, but that was because Susie was a known airhead and waaay too dumb and mean to be worthy of being her Dip’s girlfriend.

Sure enough, Dipper had broken up with Susie just a few long weeks later, and she could tell he was as relieved by the event as she was, despite having to comfort him immediately afterwards. But Pacifica, she wasn’t an airhead, and oftentimes could catch something Dipper or Mabel missed. She was a bit cold when they first met her, but now she was awesome 99% of the time, and the 1% she happened to be mean, she was always apologetic and clearly regretful, so she was a clear winner over Susie. Heck, she was rich as a king to boot, and if they dated and married Dipper would be set for life, as would all of his kids and grandkids for umpteen generations down the line.

But for whatever reason, Mabel had seen red, even knowing this, and been glaring with teeth unconsciously bared when she saw the kiss, and had quickly turned away as they pulled out of a far-too-long-to-be-chaste kiss. She had been fuming, furious, and took a long walk outside in the ankle-deep snow surrounding the Shack to try and clear her head and cool her off before she dunked Pacifica’s head in the punch bowl.

Now, to come back in and see Pacifica slinking around, and Mabel didn’t know if she could even trust her own eyes to not be playing tricks and making it look like her friend was being a sneaky and backstabbing scoundrel after macking on her boy-on her brother.

 _Boyfriend? He’s Dipper, fer gosh sakes, not Chad, or Derek, or Sev’ral TImez._ Chad had been far too dim-witted for her tastes despite being on the debate team, and Derek had been far too clingy (An admirable trait for a linebacker, but far less so for a significant other). Sev’ral Timez had gone feral and thrown pinecones at her last time she had approached, _and in any case this was entirely beside the point_ and Dipper was her _brother_ , despite not being too dumb or clingy or prone to throwing tree nuts.

She was about ready to find Grunkle Stan in the midst of the party when she almost ran into him about to head into his office. The sound of a dozen voices from the living room and the party proper was booming in the background as he awkwardly chuckled and tried to stuff a wad of fresh bills up a lounge-shirt sleeve.

“Uh, hey sweetie,” he said, rubbing his neck and trying to tuck the offending bills further away. “I, um, I need to you go check on the party punchbowl, all right? I was told it wasn’t, um, “punchy” enough.” As she opened her mouth, he leaned down to wag a finger at her. “No Mabel Juice, though. I’m still technically on house arrest for another two months after what you did with the Thanksgiving punchbowl and gravy tureen.”

She smiled and tried her best to look innocent, but her curiosity got the better of her as she pointed at the end of the wad of money and asked “So where’s the green from, Grunka Stan?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he peeled a $20 off of the top of the stack and handed it to her. “Here, kiddo. A fresh Benjamin for ya to not ask any questions and just go check the punch, wouldja?”

She took the bill, looking at the gloweringly authentic image of Andrew Jackson on it, and said with a cocked eyebrow “Uh, Grunkle Stan? This is Jackson, not the lightning-kite guy.”

He blinked, looking at it before thumbing incredulously through the stack of money. He slid it into his vest pocket after checking the stack, muttering mostly to himself “Well that explains a lot of how Detective Hanratty kept figuring out when I was trying to distribute them.” Then he turned to look at his niece, frowning slightly as he said “Any more questions?”

She looked at the money in her hand, shrugging before stuffing it in her sweater as she said “Bribery works for me,” and turning to check the punch bowl.

She was just crossing over the threshold of the doorway to the main dance floor and the towering pine tree Stan had hewn from the forest and decorated earlier when she ran into Dipper. Staggering back, he let out a quick “Oh, sorry!”

He looked up, letting out a surprised “Mabel!” accompanied by a smile and a shy blush. He started to say “Grunkle Ford wanted me to come over and check to make sure the unicorn hair seal was intact on the porch where folks had been walking, and I…” before his voice tapered off. Looking worried, he said “Mabel, is…is everything okay?”

She hadn’t realized it, but she felt like she was on the verge of tears and not entirely sure why. Dipper was wonderful, apologizing to _her_ when _she_ was the one barging around corners without peeking to make sure the path was clear, and here she was plotting petty revenges against their friend for just giving him a kiss! A kiss that, sure, made her feel more than a little sliver of jealousy for reasons she tried very hard not to think too directly about, but in no way should have been something she should blame on him. Instead, the blame and probably-unnecessary anger should be directed at-

_“Pssst!”_

She glanced up, to see Pacifica smiling, and holding the end of a thin red ribbon. Mabel could feel the bile of anger start to rise, only to stall as her curiosity noticed her wiggling the ribbon. Following it upwards, Mabel saw with a gasp that it led up to the mistletoe, and she turned to look back down to Pacifica who gave her a wink and a pointing gesture behind her. She turned, and could see Dipper had seen the same thing as she had, mouth also agape in surprise, and…was he _blushing?_

She didn’t have time to say anything before abruptly almost all of the lights went out with a faint _pop!_ There was a shout of “Sorry dudes! I was trying to bypass an old fuse and I kinda blew the heck outta it! Should be fixed in a, uh, in a minute or two!”

There was a faint rumble of annoyance from the now-nearly-invisible crowd. The tree and the tree lights must have been on a separate fuse, as they remained lit, but the room was too large for the light to make much of a dent, and instead it just offered the faintest of outlines to individual forms.

Her mind racing, her heart beating a thousand thumps a second, Mabel took a deep breath both metaphorically and literally, and leaned her face forward about halfway to where Dipper’s form was, eyes closed as her heart ached with worry and anticipation and excitement and fear and exhilaration that she was doing _this._

There was an agonizing trio of seconds, long ones that had her feeling like she was going to puke, worry clogging her lungs and making her want to stop puckering her lips for a kiss that was never coming and run away before the lights came on and Dipper saw what a perverted fool she was making of herself.

Then she felt it, a hot warm breath on her lips, and she nearly squealed. She let out a bit of her own breath in her excitement, and the lips closed the distance and met hers, gingerly, then feeling her pressing her head forward to meet the kiss, the kiss became more aggressive, assertive, Dipper’s tongue running along her lip as he sucked on it briefly and her her own tongue as it ran a little circle around his, her excitement transmitting to a muffled tiny squeak of happiness into his mouth. That caused him to pause for a worried moment, before chuckling once back into her mouth as his hands ran to the shoulder and back of her head, holding her close in a kiss like all of the romance novels she loved so much and knew that Dipper borrowed when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

Then Soos’ voice came echoing through the house: “Found the fuse, Dudes! Power…restored!” The kiss broke apart in a moment, Mabel still catching her breath with eyes wide as the lights snapped back on. Dipper was wide-eyed as well, but his excitement mirrored her own, and she quickly ducked back into the hallway and away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Nobody had been looking at the threshold, but Mabel was still feeling like every person in the room might have just seen her macking on her brother in a way that would have made Pacifica’s toes curl.

 _Speaking of which…_ she thought, as she saw Pacifica step out into the hallway in front of her, giving her a smile and a wink. “So, was it better than with me?” she asked, and Mabel saw she wasn’t looking at her, but rather over her shoulder. Spinning, Mabel saw Dipper had followed her around the corner, his eyes still wide but now with a rapid flush of embarrassment following Pacifica’s question.

“Ah man, Paxy, I…uh, well your kiss was really incredible, it really was, but-” Pacifica chuckled, and strode over to cup his face with a hand, smiling tenderly at him before spinning his shoulder to face Mabel. He chuckled awkwardly, giving her a little smile that she returned with a nervous giggle.

“Dipper, while that was an awesome kiss, I feel like I can tell when someone is kissing halfheartedly. Given that i think my Northwest intuition paid off here, I’m going to go out on an incredibly-sturdy limb here and say that was most decidedly _not_ a halfhearted kiss?”

Dipper blushed an even deeper red, and gave a tiny shake of his head. Pacifica smiled, and said quietly “That’s what I figured. Go get her, tiger,” as she gave him a tiny push, landing him in Mabel’s arms, where his fingers intertwined hers.

The twins smiled tenderly at each other as Pacifica returned to the dance floor. She gave Soos a meaningful nod from his DJ station, and he nodded solemnly back, before carefully mashing a button. After the boom of the amplified dog bark faded, he more-carefully mashed a different button, and _Jingle Bell Rock_ began filling the Shack with music.

In the hallway, out of sight of everyone else, Dipper and Mabel danced.


	14. A Very Tired Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: “Can you do aa kind of sequel to “Aisle of the near door” or prequel to “Very Happy 60th” for Pinesmas? Something like the first cristhmas with the twins married or with kids?”

“Finally got him sleeping, Dip?”

Mabel’s voice was weary, tired from half a year of duelling against their son, as he screamed and kicked and refused every attempt to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Tyrone certainly had inherited his sister’s rebellious streak, and after the fiasco he’d had to clean up this afternoon with the christmas cookie batter and Dipper’s fountain pen, it looked like he’d inherited his dad’s knack for destructive curiosity as well.

He nodded, cupping a hand to brush the little floof of hair on the sleeping infant, watching his chest rise and fall and his leg wiggle as something in the dream prompted him to kick out. Dipper felt like he could sit here forever, being a sentinel for his little boy, but at the same time the bone-deep ache and exhaustion from the day was creeping up on the back of his mind like a wave. Better to get some rest now, and avoid collapsing in exhaustion in another half-hour of wakefulness.

Ty was starting to sleep more reliably through the night, but when he’d napped for a bit too long while they were remaking the cookies this afternoon, there was the very real risk of a cranky scream echoing through their apartment at the buttcrack of dawn or earlier and zombifying Dipper and Mabel into a semblance of attentiveness.

Mabel was watching him from the open doorway, and Dipper carefully got up, stepped over the incredibly squeaky teething ring and fuzzy ratty dog toy Mabel had passed on to him. He wrapped an arm around her, giving her a smooch before half-faking a collapse of exhaustion against the wall of the hallway. She gave him a mischievous smile, and with a bit of a teasing voice, she said “Turns out the cookies from this afternoon weren’t a complete loss!”

Remembering the veritable puddle of blue ink and the unappetizing blue it had dyed the shortbread mix to, he cocked his head in confusion. Grinning, Mabel presented the fountain pen with a flourish, and Dipper let out a little excited gasp. It, along with a long-since-filled hardbound journal, had been a surreptitious wedding gift from Ford f;or him. Their parents were still fairly…raw about their “unnatural and sinful relationship,” and Dipper was fairly sure the Christmas letter Mabel had just mailed out yesterday would find its way directly into the trash, as the one she’d sent last year and the year before probably did as well. Still, he was glad she wasn’t giving up hope, and her optimism was a bit infectious for him as well although he wasn’t sure he could admit to saying so out loud.

The pen was clean, sparklingly so, and Dipper could see that the nib was free of the frosted dough that had clogged it this afternoon, seemingly beyond all hope of repair. Mabel’s hands were ink-stained, but her grin was tired yet triumphant. Dipper gave her a little excited kiss, before setting the pen on a _very_ high shelf before turning to twirl her and pull her into a deeper, far more passionate kiss than they’d exchanged a moment ago. The twins both giggled, and Dipper could see her shoulders sag with the exhaustion he too felt.

Then she patted his but, giving him a grin as she said “Afraid I’m a bit tuckered out from the little one for some more roughhousing with his dad tonight,” she said with a wink and a poked-out tongue, and Dipper gave a rueful chuckle as she continued. “Still, that’s not to say I wouldn’t be up for some shenanigans with ‘Little Dipper’ tomorrow, after we get some much-deserved sleep,” and Dipper smiled, his spirits lifting a little even as he groaned at her pet nickname she knew he thought sounded ridiculous.

“C’mere. I want to enjoy this for a moment.” She grabbed his hand, dragging him after her into the living room. There, a little pine tree sat bedecked in cheap, sparkly tinsel, glowing lights, and a scant handful of blown-glass ornaments. Dipper grinned as he saw it, illuminating the otherwise-dark corner of their modest living room, with a dozen or so gifts crammed underneath where space permitted them.

He hugged Mabel close, feeling and hearing her sigh happily, and he gave her a kiss on her head as she leaned on his shoulder. With a quiet giggle, she looked over at the glowing clock displaying a few minutes after midnight, and said “Merry Christmas, Sir Dippingsauce.”

He grinned in the darkness, kissing her again on the forehead before gently turning her to look in her eyes as he said “Merry Christmas, Lady Mabelton.” He touched his forehead to hers, leaning his lips downwards to meet hers as-

-A screaming wail started up, barely a few seconds of rising fussing to give warning before the cries began to poke straight through Dipper’s ears to grate directly against the base of his spine. They both sighed in frustration and mild amusement, and Dipper gave her a brief kiss on the forehead. She followed him to Ty’s room, squeezing his shoulder briefly before going to their bedroom to probably crash into bed and fall asleep.

Dipper scooped up Ty, already cooing and singing a wordless tune under his breath as the fussing cries slowed. Finally, as the cries faded into burbled giggles and after a painfully long time shifted to gentle quietly-grunting snoring breaths, Dipper laid him back in the crib. As his son gurgled and shifted bonelessly in his hands, he leaned close, kissing him on his soft, warm forehead as he said “Merry Christmas, Captain Tyger.” The he smiled, stood, gave him one last look from the bedroom doorway, and shut off the light.


	15. One Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: “christmas prompt: family christmas about 5 years after the twins broke up. now they both married and have children. when everyone’s already sleeping, the twins find some time to talk about everything they had and have now. and understand they’re still in love with each other. slightly nsfw, please :D”

There had been little snippets over dinner; Glances, almost too quick to be noticed, whispered words murmured that held innuendos not heard for decades, a brushed fingertip against another almost as if it was an accident.

It was killing both of them, and finally Dipper, face full of mirth at the antics of his wife and kids around the Christmas tree, mirth that didn’t quite reach his eyes, asked Mabel to help him stack the cookies in the kitchen while everyone was in the living room. As soon as she was out of sight, he leaned forward, kissing her on the mouth with more force than he had intended. She pulled her head back in surprise, the murmured “What are you-” dying as she met his lips, returning the kiss for a pair of measured moments before breaking off the kiss and leaning back.

Her eyes were full of worry, fear as they darted from the face of her twin brother to the living room, where her sons were playing with Dipper’s daughter and where her husband and Dipper’s wife laughed at some joke their Dad had made.

“Dipper, _now?_ We can’t-”

For a moment he felt a tightness in his chest, thinking that he had misread her feelings towards him, that again, after all these years, he had destroyed whatever chances or feelings she’d had for him through his haste. Then he saw the concern, the love that he saw reflected when she looked at her children, and to a lesser extent her husband and their parents as well. He tried to take in a slow breath, willing his racing heart to slow and calm now that he realized that she still felt the same way as she did all those years ago.

Still, it was hard to keep a bitter tone out of his voice. “Mabel, we never _could._ What the hell is the difference if we get caught now versus a decade ago?” His voice held little sincerity, as his mind drifted to the smiling face of his little three-year-old Melody, and he stomach soured with the thoughts of what her life would be like if he was forever removed from it. “In any case, it’s not like we’re doing anything other than beating a dead horse. We can’t be together, and I shouldn’t have brought it u-”

He was cut off as Mabel’s hand caressed his cheek, turning him to face her. Her eyes were wide, hurt, and brimming with tears as she caressed his cheekbone with her thumb. She brought his face towards hers, slowly, and met his lips, melting against them for a single, long kiss before drawing back slowly.

“Dip,” she said, and his throat tightened as he heard the swallowed-back sob in her whispering of his name. “Oh Dip, I…We really need to talk abou-”

Their heads shot up as the children laughing died down for a moment, leading to a silence in which Dipper’s wife Annabel called back “Hey, Dipper, those cookies almost ready?”

Cursing silently, Dipper cleared his throat and called back “In a second, honey!” He gave Mabel an apologetic smile, but as he opened his mouth to say more, she shook her head. The living room filled with giggles as Melody tried out one of the boys’ new fire truck sound effects, and Mabel sniffed, rubbing at her slightly-redenned eyes. “Let’s…let’s talk about this tonight. Living room, at midnight, Sir Dippington?”

Her little smile through the remnants of her tears and the playful tone of her voice had him chuckling, coughing and nodding and giving her a brief kiss on the forehead before turning to arrange the cookies. Mabel grabbed a tissue and went back to the living room, replying to her husband’s concerned tone at her sniffly appearance by blaming it on allergies. There were some sympathetic murmurs and apologies from their Mom for the lack of allergy meds in the bathroom cupboard.

Dipper, stacking shortbread sugar cookies and gingerbread stars on a platter, swooped into the room, delivering cookies to the kids and their parents and grandparents in turn. He gave Mabel a little smile which she returned, and sat on the couch. His arm was around Annabel, but his mind was entirely focused on his twin sister.

Tonight, he’d be able to see her, talk to her alone for the first time in years.

 

 

 

Fumbling in the dark, Dipper was nearly blinded as he snapped on the lights for the Christmas tree. Too much, way too much, he thought as he hurriedly turned them off before the blinding light and reflection from what must have been a hundred glass ornaments set anyone awake. As his night vision slowly returned, he glanced around the living room, finally spotting the lamp on the coffee table. He clicked it on, the warm yellow glow illuminating the tale and a bit of the ceiling, but thankfully not producing the light of a multihued sun like the tree did.

He glanced up at the sound of a quiet giggle; Mabel was in the doorway, smiling, an overlarge T-shirt covering down halfway on her hips, revealing a pair of loose exercise shorts for the rest of her PJs. Dipper sat down in his wool sleep pants and ratty black shirt, the IronBlade! robot logo on the front worn nearly into nothing with use. He patted the seat next to him, and Mabel followed it to sit next to him, resting a hand on his leg as she gave him another small smile.

Still, the smile held something sad, and broaching the silence, he said tenderly “Mabes…Mabel, what’s wrong? What’s going on, right now…with us?”

She looked up from where she was examining the carpet, looking him in the eyes and smiling. This smile was sad, pitying, and her voice held the edge of exasperation. “Dipper…we’re not kids anymore. The last time you and I had-…were serious, together? That was the year after we started college, our first year apart.”

He must not have looked like he understood, and she said “We have our own lives now, Dipper. I loved you, and I still do, but we went our own ways and…well, life gets in the way of even socially-approved and not-squicky-to-everyone relationships.”

She gave him a little grin, trying to see if he would smile, but all she got was a shrug. “Well, so? I mean, you had cut it off so damn fast, I figured you’d met someone special that- _OW!”_

He cut off abruptly as Mabel punched him in the arm, hard, and he hissed out in pain, trying to keep his voice down to avoid awakening anyone sleeping upstairs. She was glaring at him now, the smile evaporated and replaced with seething anger. “ _I_ cut it off? Dipper, you didn’t reply to my texts for _three freaking days._ I thought you _died,_ and then when I finally get ahold of you, your reply was, and I quote, _“O hai Mabes how r u? winkface tongueface”!_ What the _hell,_ you think leaving me to think you’d gone off and started hooking up with Julie or whatever the hell her name was-”

This time Dipper cut back, half-angrily but also trying to keep the bubbling guilt out of his voice. “Her name was _Janet_ , and she was my _study buddy_ for the test, Mabel. Nothing more. I am pretty sure I mentioned that I was cramming for that _final,_ and probably would be occupied for maybe even a _week,_ right?”

It was true, and while he had aced the physics final and might have even been able to do so without studying, Dipper was never one to leave it to chance. Janet, while definitely not his type and a bit too much of a sportball fan for his tastes, nevertheless had a great understanding of conversion equations and mnemonics for them. It was something Dipper was somewhat bad at, and in turn he’d helped advise her for the various laws they’d had to memorize. All in all, it was a good partnership, and she’d done very well on it as well, but in retrospect Dipper realized that powering off his phone completely was probably a bit too far in terms of helping stay focused.

The venom had gone out of Mabel’s voice as she mumbled “Well, yeah, I _did_ get the dumb text, but-” She looked at Dipper, her voice now just somewhat hurt. “Dipper, you _know_ how much us talking, even little dumb stuff like texts, you know how much that means to me, right?”

He nodded, slowly, his heart sinking as she continued. “When you just cut me out like that…that _hurt,_ Dipper. It hurt a lot, and made me feel like you didn’t love me like I had loved you.”

His head shot up, noting her use of the past tense, and he said quietly “So…do you…do you still love me, Mabel?”

She let out a little noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob, and said “Of _course_ I love you, Dipper.” She noticed his unconvinced expression, and said “And yeah, I still love you like _that_ too. It’s just…well, it’s different with being married to Jacob, and having two boys to raise as well, y’know?”

She looked at him and he nodded, slowly. God knows he still loved Mabel like a torch, and would die for her in a second…but then again, he would do that for Annabel too, and he loved her and Melody more than anyone besides his twin sister, more than his parents even. She wasn’t Mabel, despite all the teasing references to the similar artistic inclinations and hair styles his sister had mentioned after his engagement, but she was his closest friend, probably closer than Mabel was given how much time and disagreements had separated them.

“Yeah, I understand,” he said slowly. He grasped her hand gently in his, giving it a light squeeze as he brought it up to his lips to kiss before setting back down. “Still, Mabel, I’m…I’m sorry for all the dumb shit I put you through in college. That wasn’t fair of me; to do to you, and I feel like I ruined everything.”

She gave his leg a brief squeeze, smiling at him as she reassured him. “It’s all right, Dipper. I mean, while naive past-me would have loved to imagine otherwise, both of us, together, _forever?_ In the real world? It just wouldn’t have been possible, not without cutting ties with everyone and retreating to a desert island to live out our lives as incestuous hermits.”

She giggled at the end, and Dipper did too, putting his arm around her to hug her close. For a long moment they just looked at the dark tree, quietly, before Dipper spoke again.

“It…it had good parts-good parts between us, I mean. Right?” He was trying to sound casual and failing desperately, made all the worse when Mabel turned in his arm to look at him, her face serious and deadpan.

“Good parts? Dipper…” she said, this time with amused rather than pitying exasperation. “Dip, I love you, ya big dork, but sometimes you are not the best at picking up what a lady was laying down, even in the day. Even now.”

Dipper didn’t know how to take that, and couldn’t help making a panicked, squeaky _“Ergh?_ ” She giggled, kissing him briefly on the cheek.

“Dipper, us being together after…after that spring break trip, that was the start of the best years of my life.” She looked at him, reading his mind as she said “ _Including_ the years since we broke up. I love Jacob, but he’s no _you,_ you goofball.”

He chuckled, relaxing slightly. Then he stiffened, as Mabel’s hand drifted over his crotch to rub there gently but very purposefully. “Plus, Jacob’s not bad in the downstairs department, but he’s certainly got nothing to compare to the “Little Dipper,” if it’s truly as I remember it.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes at the nickname, before he groaned again, leaning backwards as Mabel kissed under his ear, where his jawbone met his neck. “Dipper…I…” She sat back, sighing before she said “I know we can’t be together, but…would-would you be okay if we at least closed out that chapter of our lives together, _now,_ instead of leaving it on us being dumb in college?”

The way she said ‘now’ had Dipper’s anatomy responding nicely, and he nodded, smiling as she smiled in relief and excited anticipation. She leaned forward, but Dipper met her neck with his own kisses, trailing them down the collar of the shirt until he was blocked by the fabric. Shooting a brief glance towards the empty stairwell, Mabel tugged off her shirt, revealing her ample and still-firm breasts, the nipples peaking in the cold air of the house. Dipper gently took one in his mouth, relishing her appreciative shiver and sigh as she pressed herself towards him. She pulled his sleep pants downwards, revealing the plaid boxers beneath. With probing fingers, she parted the material to reveal his shaft, poking firmly skywards.

“I see the ‘Little Dipper’ is _definitely_ as good as I remember him to be,” she said with an appreciative humming giggle, shooting Dipper a look before she wrapped her fingers around his cock. He leaned backwards, loving the feeling of her hands on his member after so long without. His hand slipped to the back of her shorts, sliding into them to cup her mound and feel her damp slit with a sliding finger.

Then she hummed, and took the head of his cock into her mouth, and Dipper groaned, shifting his hips to try and give her a better position. She ran her tongue in a little circle around the head, pulling off to give him a little kiss on the top as-

“Dipper, what are- _WHAT THE FUCK?”_

Mabel shot backwards, grabbing at a pillow to shove over her exposed chest as Annabel stood in the doorway, mouth open in shock, staring at Dipper’s cock as it glistened in the light.

Already, Dipper could hear the sounds of movement, and Jacob’s voice yelling to see what was going on as he stumbled out of their room upstairs. Dipper could hear Mabel’s frantic, quick breathing next to him as he felt like he was going to puke, and almost as an afterthought he grabbed Mabel’s shirt to cover his exposed limp member. Ahead of him, still staring, Annabel just slumped against the wall sliding to the floor with an arm over her knees as she just spoke in a whispered voice. A voice full of hurt, despair, anger, disgust, and betrayal.

 _“Why?_ Why _her?”_


End file.
